


Acts of Unkindness

by otherhawk



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eleven (2001)
Genre: Angst, Coercion, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Pre-Movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherhawk/pseuds/otherhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Ocean's 11</p>
<p>A/N 1: Thanks to InSilva for prereading and the title</p>
<p>A/N2: Regular readers may be asking 'Why would she start writing a new story when she still has several to finish'. Well, you could be right. But in my defence, this is both creepy and unpleasant. Wait...I mean I already have most of the next two chapters finished</p>
<p>A/N3: Also, this is slash. And there is coerced sex herein.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. You show me yours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Ocean's 11
> 
> A/N 1: Thanks to InSilva for prereading and the title
> 
> A/N2: Regular readers may be asking 'Why would she start writing a new story when she still has several to finish'. Well, you could be right. But in my defence, this is both creepy and unpleasant. Wait...I mean I already have most of the next two chapters finished
> 
> A/N3: Also, this is slash. And there is coerced sex herein.

_The window was open, but even now it was dark, the air blowing in was hot and dusty. As far as Rusty was concerned it was past time to leave this country behind and go home._

" _We're going to need to block off that second exit," he said suddenly._

_Danny paused and then carefully stopped what he was doing and looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Really?" he asked. "What, am I boring you or something?"_

" _Sorry," Rusty said unrepentantly. "Sometimes stuff just pops into my head. I can't help it."_

" _Uh huh." Danny's eyes narrowed. His hands were warm around Rusty's hips. (Danny was always warm.) "Let's see if we can't get your mind where it's supposed to be." He leaned forwards again and blew gently and the soft sensation swept tantalizingly across Rusty's groin. His hips bucked forwards helplessly._

" _We're still gonna have to..." he gasped, then he broke off into a low, needy moan as Danny descended on him, his mouth busy in indescribable ways._

" _Leave tomorrow, till tomorrow," Danny said a moment later, and Rusty nodded dizzily, happy to agree with anything right now. "I want you right here and now."_

* * *

It would be easier if it had been something to do with the second exit, Rusty thought bitterly. Then, at least, there would be something he could blame. Something he could point at and say 'That was what we did wrong'. But the truth was, he didn't know what had happened. Just that the result had been catastrophic.

Danny was a deadweight on his shoulder. He cursed his choice of words, his hand squeezing round Danny's leg convulsively. Not dead, not nearly dead. Not going to die. He'd managed to slow the bleeding at least, but there was too much of Danny's blood covering both of them. It was all he could smell, and with each breath he felt like screaming. The bullet had hit Danny in the back. Rusty shouldn't have moved him at all, he knew, but if they were caught now there would be a whole hail of bullets coming their way without the benefit of a trial.

He stopped to catch his breath somewhere in the warren of dark alleyways. He didn't dare put Danny down. He didn't want to risk moving him anymore than he had to. But eyes stinging, he reached up and pressed his hand to Danny's cheek. It was cold in the muggy night's air. He could hear Danny breathing, harsh, laboured, unsteady... Rusty sank his teeth deep into his lip. "I was thinking," he said unsteadily. "When we get home. Maybe I should move into your room with you. That would be nice, right? And we could figure out what to do with my room...the other room. What do you think, hot tub? Wet bar?" He paused a second, then nodded. "Right. Both. That's a great idea."

A siren sounded somewhere too close, and made him jump. He had to get them off the streets. He had to get Danny help.

Knowing where to find a discreet doctor was always part of Rusty's basic reconnaissance of any new city that they operated in. Franco had given him a name and address. Dr Hans - no last name. It wasn't far, at least.

Of course, so far Franco's information had been careless at best, he thought grimly, as he gripped Danny a little tighter and headed off down the darkest alley. If he got there and found the address was actually a delicatessen...

Franco was dead now. He felt guilty.

He wished Danny would wake up. He wished Danny would give some sign he was _alive._

* * *

The address led him to a two storey house on a residential street, walled off and apart from its neighbours. The garden was overgrown with tangled weeds and gnarled trees, and the front door was flanked by two weatherworn stone lions. There was a single dim light in one of the upstairs windows.

"Looks like a great setting for a horror movie," he murmured.

Danny didn't respond. Not even in Rusty's head.

With a nod, he staggered up the path towards the front door. His back ached almost as much as his heart. "Not like we have much choice."

There were people looking for them. Soldiers, cops, criminals...the only difference in who caught them would be how quickly they died.

There was an old-fashioned brass door knocker. With a quick, awkward glance over his shoulder, he rapped it three times. The echoes went on for a long time, and he was back looking over his shoulder again.

He heard footsteps coming towards the door and then a long silence. Come on, come on, come on. He got the sense that someone was looking at him through the peephole. "Please," he called out, soft and urgent. "I need help. My friend is hurt. Please."

The silence considered him and finally the door swung open and he was looking into a lit hallway, a tall, round man silhouetted in the doorway. "Come in, come in," he said in perfect English, a noticeable trace of a German accent shaded with just a little local colour. "Quickly, please."

"Dr Hans?" Rusty asked quickly, stumbling inside.

"Yes, yes," Hans agreed, putting his hand on Rusty's back and ushering him inside. "My surgery is set up in the basement. We must get your friend seen to quickly. Did anyone see you come in here?"

"No," he said definitely. "No, we weren't followed. No one knows we're here."

"Good," Hans breathed in relief. "That's good."

"I have money," Rusty added, patting the package in his coat. "As much as you want."

"We will get to that later," Hans said dismissively. "This way, please." Somehow, and Rusty didn't quite see _how,_ he opened a hidden panel in the wall, revealing a steep flight of stairs down to the basement. "Do you need a hand with him?"

Instinctively, Rusty clutched Danny tighter. "No," he said at once. "No, I've got him."

Hans nodded, watching them carefully. "As you like. Please, follow me."

He followed slowly, terrified of falling, terrified of dropping Danny. There was a small but clean and well-equipped surgery at the bottom. A couple of beds surrounded by curtains, an operating table, a trolley covered in sharp instruments, a sink, a locked drug cabinet, what looked like a portable x-ray machine...Rusty breathed a sigh of relief. This looked promising. Fuck, let Danny be okay. He'd do anything...

"Please put him on the table," Hans said. "Where is the injury?"

"His back," Rusty said tightly. "A bullet wound."

"I see, I see," Hans nodded. "And was there an exit wound?"

"No." He'd checked. And now he was imagining that bullet still tearing through Danny, working it's way deeper into his spine.

"Thank you. Please place him face down and I will take a look."

Rusty did as he was told. Danny lay pale and cold and still, his breathing terrifyingly shallow _._ "It's going to be okay," Rusty murmured, gripping Danny's hand for a long moment, uncaring of the audience. "You're going to be fine. You don't get to leave me like this, remember?"

Hans cleared his throat, and Rusty nodded apologetically and stood back, watching in breathless, terrified anticipation as Hans checked Danny's pulse, blood pressure and pupil reaction, connecting him up to a couple of machines and making small unhappy sounding noises, before quickly wheeling a ventilator over and grabbing an intubation set. Rusty bit savagely into his lip as he watched the tube forced down Danny's throat. He couldn't stop the soft noise of agony. This was like a nightmare. And he hadn't even seen the bullet wound yet...

At last Hans took a pair of scissors and delicately cut the shirt and the mess of improvised bandages off Danny's back. "Mmmm," Hans murmured to himself. "I see, I see." He carefully cut off Danny's pants and boxers as well, easing them off while moving Danny as little as possible, before gently covering Danny's lower half with a sheet. "In cases of spinal injuries, it is important to reduce any swelling around the spinal cord as soon as possible. I'm going to give him a large injection of steroids." He looked up at Rusty, blinking. "There is a torch on the bench behind you. Please bring it over here."

He turned and spotted the flashlight and grabbed it over. "Here," he said, holding it out, but Hans didn't take it.

"Thank you. Please, just shine it on your lover's back so I can see better."

Again, he did as he was told, but he glanced up at Hans quickly, wondering.

Hans caught him looking. "Oh, I hope you are not offended," he said apologetically. "Please, believe me, I don't mind. I like to think that I am very openminded."

Rusty just shrugged. Right now, it hardly seemed to matter, if it ever did. He moved the flashlight as he was directed, and watched Hans give the injection directly into Danny's back and continue the examination.

"Yes," Hans said at last, standing up straight and slowly peeling off his bloody gloves. "I believe there is hope for your friend. I may well be able to save his life...though only time will tell if he will walk again. I have a good idea of the angle of impact, but in order to operate successfully, I shall first of all have to perform an x-ray."

"Right," Rusty nodded intently. "Let's get on with it then. What do you need me to do?"

Hans smiled widely. "Please take out your penis and show it to me."

Time stopped. For a moment, Rusty just stared, certain he must have somehow misheard. " _What?"_

"I should like to see your penis," Hans said calmly. "And you are going to show it to me. Unless you want to carry your lover out of here and try and find some other doctor? I can assure you, you would be signing his death warrant."

He would be. Danny needed treatment _now._ This was his only chance. And Rusty had seen enough to be certain that Hans was a good doctor.

Danny wouldn't want this. Danny would be furious at him for even thinking about this. "You just want to look?" he clarified.

"Oh, yes," Hans nodded. "I am afraid that is all we have time for. But please. Go ahead."

This was nothing that mattered. This wasn't important in the least. Face blank, he unzipped his pants, reached inside and drew his dick out and stood there, dangling ridiculously.

Hans made an approving clucking sound, and leaned in close for a long, thoughtful inspection as Rusty gritted his teeth. He didn't try to touch in any way. Somehow, that almost made it worse. Rusty had been treated like meat before. This was like being reduced to furniture. "Very nice," Hans said, after an eternity. "Very nice indeed. Thank you."

He stood up, beaming happily. "And now," he said, "I will save your lover's life."


	2. Just like your prom date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, in case anyone is wondering, no I don't know what country they're in. It's deliberately vague. Frankly, it may well be Latveria.

Hans turned and started fiddling with the x-ray machine. Hands shaking with shock and anger, Rusty quickly started to tuck himself away.

"Leave that out, please," Hans called without looking round. "It will inspire me while I work."

"Not exactly hygienic," Rusty noted evenly.

Hans chuckled deeply. "You can put it away when we start to operate," he offered magnanimously. "For now, I just want you to hold the machine steady for me and look pretty. I am sure you can manage that."

The x-ray machine was heavy and complicated. Rusty occupied himself reading all the instructions and serial numbers on it that he could find. Anything to take his mind away from the unreality of the situation. He was standing over Danny's unconscious, bleeding body with his dick hanging out. Danny might never walk...no! No, he wasn't going to think of that. Danny would be fine.

But Danny was hurt. And that was all that should be in his head now. He shouldn't be getting upset over what was, after all, a minor humiliation.

Hans hummed tunelessly while he worked. "I only have one lead apron, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "It is a good thing that you're not likely to be having children, isn't it?" He laughed cheerfully to himself.

"That's fine," Rusty said uncaringly, his eyes fixed on Danny's face. Danny hadn't moved. There was sweat and dirt beaded on his forehead.

"Please stand behind me," Hans said earnestly.

He wanted to resist, just out of spite, but he didn't want to risk Hans delaying anymore, so he nodded and moved back against the sink.

There was a whirring and clicking sound. "Good," Hans said, sounding pleased. "Now, I will need to develop these and we will see where we are."

"He hasn't woken up," Rusty said tightly.

"A good thing," Hans answered. "If he had, I would need to give him something to put him under again." He finished up with the x-ray machine and removed the cassette. "Good," he said again cheerfully. "Now, I need to develop these, which will take a short time, I am afraid. Whatever will we do in the meantime, mm?" He beamed at Rusty, his gaze resting openly on Rusty's cock.

Rusty stood his ground, back straight and unashamed.

"Why don't you make us both a coffee?" Hans suggested, to his hidden surprise. "There's a machine back there. I take mine milky with four sugars, if you please."

Right. That was...well, he was no-one's servant, and normally he would have told Hans exactly where to go...even providing explicit directions...but there was nothing normal about this situation. "Of course," he said steadily, and he walked across the room, each step that took him further from Danny worse than the last, and he found a couple of mugs and set about making coffee.

Hans took the cassette over to the desk and was apparently hard at work, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. "Oh, and please remove your shirt, if you don't mind," he called, without looking up.

Rusty stilled, his fist clenched tight. "And what if I do mind?" he asked, low and dangerous.

"Yes, yes, I am sure you are a very tough boy," Hans said with a dismissive little laugh. "You are younger than I am, and fitter than I am, and I'm sure that if I were to try to force you to do anything it would go very badly for me. But I would remind you, you need me, while I do not need you or your lover at all. Look at his face."

Rusty looked. Even unconscious, Danny's face was lined with pain. He remembered the way Danny had screamed as he fell. The helpless, awful protectiveness roared through him.

"Is a little bit of your pride really worth so much more than him, tough boy?" Hans asked softly.

No. Of course not. There was nothing that Danny wasn't worth. And he'd never been embarrassed about being seen naked, anyway. Hell, he was notorious for it. People made jokes...this was nothing.

He reached up to his top button.

"Wait a moment please," Hans said suddenly, looking down at his screen with disappointment. "You have distracted me," he said mournfully. "I will need to start over."

"You distracted yourself," Rusty snapped crisply.

"Mmm." Hans stood up and leaned back against the desk. "Take your shirt off. Slowly, please."

Of course. He met Hans' eyes defiantly and undid his shirt buttons one by one, counting to five in his head after each one. He tried his best to keep his movements wooden, devoid of his usual grace, but by the slight, appreciative curve to Hans' mouth, it didn't make a difference. Finally, he eased the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "There," he said abruptly. "Happy?"

"Thank you," Hans said, looking back at his computer at last. "I'll take my coffee over here."

Wordlessly, he finished making the coffee and carried it back across the room, head held high and not giving a damn. "Here you go," he said flatly, placing the coffee on the desk next to Hans.

"Your nipples are very pink," Hans commented as he looked up, his eyes lingering clinically over Rusty's body. "Do you find they're very sensitive?"

"Not particularly," Rusty said evenly.

Hans grinned knowingly. "You know, I bet they are." He took a mouthful of coffee. "This is very good, tough boy. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said with heavy irony.

Hans' gaze moved lower. "And well done on not spilling any on yourself. That would have been very nasty. I would hate to have had to stop treating your lover to rub ointment on you."

Rusty smiled humourlessly. "I bet you would've."

"Such are the sacrifices a doctor must make," Hans agreed solemnly, turning his attention back to his work dismissively.

It was a relief. Rusty returned to to Danny's side and took his hand, full of silent promises that everything was going to be alright. Somehow. No matter what it took.

"Ahhhhh," Hans exhaled slowly. "And there we are. This is very good. Come and see." Reluctantly, he relinquished Danny's hand. Hans had the x-rays up on the screen behind the operating table, and he pointed at them excitedly. "There is the unfortunate bullet, look. It has entered at an angle and broken this rib, and is lodged between the vertebrae here, but do you know, it appears it may have not severely impacted the spine after all. Your lover must have some angel looking out for him."

"So you can operate?" Rusty asked, his heart in his mouth.

"Yes," Hans agreed. "The sooner the better. However," He held a finger up and Rusty braced himself. "He has lost a lot of blood and he will lose more. I should prefer to give him a transfusion preoperatively, but I would need to know his bloodtype and give it to my friend who works at the hospital tomorrow morning. Now, if I operate without the transfusion, there's a good chance he will die, and if I wait till tomorrow things will have moved and he will almost certainly be paralysed. What - "

" - Danny's A positive, but I'm O negative," Rusty cut in quickly. "That's universal donor, right?"

"Correct!" Hans looked delighted. "Yes, that should do very nicely. I shall take a couple of pints out of you tonight and text my friend tomorrow and he will bring more blood to help in his recovery. If he survives the night, that is."

He turned away and started pulling tubing and bags out of a drawer, but Rusty grabbed his arm. "What are his chances?"

Hans gazed down at his hand for a second, then straightened up and looked Rusty in the eye. "I will not lie to you, the odds of him making a full recovery are not in our favour. But there _is_ a chance. And now I have seen the x-rays I am greatly encouraged. But it is not a simple operation and there is always the possibility of complications. I can tell you this," he added with sincerity. "He is better off with me than with any other surgeon in the country."

Rusty nodded slowly. That last had the undeniable ring of truth. "Thank you," he said softly, because whatever else, he could be grateful for _this._

"You are welcome," Hans said, smiling again. "And please, try not to touch me while I am working." His eyes travelled down Rusty's chest and came to rest at his groin. "I admit, I find a boy in your state of undress very distracting."

He dropped Hans' arm in instinctive disgust. "Can we get on?"

"So eager," Hans laughed, before growing serious. "Very well. Bring that chair over beside your lover and sit down please."

He did, holding Danny's hand again, and he managed not to even shudder when a moment later Hans was leaning in close to him, solicitously rubbing the crook of his elbow with an antiseptic wipe. "It is fortune I had you remove your shirt," he murmured.

That wasn't even worth dignifying with an answer.

"Normally your blood would be screened before we let it near another human being," Hans told him, leaning in even closer as he pulled a cuff tightly around Rusty's upper arm. "However, we don't have time for that in these circumstances, so please take this opportunity to be honest with me. Have you been naughty?"

The implication was obvious. "No," Rusty said curtly.

"Really?" Hans pressed. "No playing away from home that lover boy doesn't know about?"

"I'm clean," Rusty declared.

"Oh, I very much doubt that," Hans laughed, sliding the needle home smoothly.

It didn't hurt. But watching Hans mover over to Danny...after _that_ conversation, watching Hans thrust a needle into Danny's unprotected flesh...oh, that did hurt.

"And there," Hans declared happily after a few moments. "Now you are inside of him. Is that a new experience for you?"

He didn't want to – not now – but he couldn't help remember the warmth of Danny's mouth around him. Had that really been just last night?

"Oh ho!" Hans exclaimed, eyes gleaming. I see that it is not." He ran his thumb clinically down Danny's jawline. "I would not have thought your lover the type to roll over for anyone. I suppose appearances can be - "

" - don't touch him!" Rusty snarled, half out of his chair but not daring to move further for fear of dislodging the needle. "Get your fucking hands off him."

With an exaggerated movement, Hans backed away. "I apologise. But you are normally the woman, between the two of you, aren't you? A posterior like yours was made to be enjoyed."

Rusty's jaw clenched. "How is it possible that no one has punched you in the face before?" he ground out.

Hans laughed merrily. "You really want to, don't you? Your self-control is admirable. Now, you just stay as you are for another thirty minutes or so. I will sit here and enjoy the view." He pulled another chair over and sat looking straight at Rusty with open enjoyment.

Determinedly, Rusty ignored him, turning his head and looking at Danny instead. With the oxygen and the blood, there was a little more colour in Danny's face. Not enough to say that he looked fine, but an improvement on the deathly grey he'd been before. He could almost imagine Danny opening his eyes...and then he imagined, for the briefest of seconds, what Danny would see if he _did,_ and automatically his hand flew to his pants, trying to cover up.

"Please try not to play with your penis while the transfusion is in progress," Hans chided. "I understand that it's inviting when it's just sitting there, and you are gazing oh-so-tenderly at your lover, but we need your blood pressure to remain steady."

With a deep breath, he moved his hands back to his side. "Of course," he said evenly. Protesting that he _hadn't_ been would be a waste of air, he knew that. And still, when he looked back at Danny it was so much harder to keep his gaze steady.

Eventually the gauge beeped and Hans looked at it approvingly. "And that is you done," he declared, removing the needle from Danny's arm and expertly slipping a dressing on. "Two pints."

"I can give more," Rusty said quickly. "If he needs it."

"That's already more than you're supposed to give at a time," Hans pointed out, almost gently. "And we need you to be capable of standing for us to assist in the operation."

Yeah. It just didn't feel enough. Still, he pulled the needle out and bit his tongue when Hans gave an exclamation of protest and disapproval and immediately hurried over to dab the blood away and smooth a bandaid over the mark.

"Drink this as well please," Hans added, taking a can of Coke out of the fridge. "You will need the energy. This is going to take some time."

He drank it. It was cold and sweet. It tasted good. He hated it.

He watched in concern as Hans started drawing up drugs and making up an IV. "What are you giving him?" he asked sharply, before Hans even took one step closer to Danny.

"Fluids and a prophylactic antibiotic," Hans answered sweetly. "Have you finished? Once I've placed these, we will begin."

Begin? Rusty frowned. "What about anaesthetic?" he demanded. "Painkillers?"

"What about them?" Hans said with a shrug. "They are expensive."

"I have money," he reminded Hans sharply. "Whatever you want."

"We will get to remuneration later," Hans told him. "Your lover is unconscious. I have no wish to waste my drugs on him."

That wasn't...that wasn't the _point._ That wasn't how it worked. "What if he wakes up?"

Hans smiled toothily. "Then he'll probably die of shock, won't he?"

"You can't do this!" It was a ridiculous protest, and they both knew it.

He wasn't surprised when Hans leaned back coolly against the counter and just studied him for a long moment, a sharp little smile playing around his mouth. "I should like to touch you," he said at last.

No, it wasn't a surprise. But he could still feel his heart hammering in his chest. Danny was laying there. Danny... "There's no time!" he said, desperately. " _After_ \- " After, he could do what he liked. Anything he liked.

" - then there is no time for anaesthetic, tough boy," Hans said implacably. "There is time. Ten minutes. Just my hands and nothing below the waist. I will be the perfect gentleman, just like your prom date."

Inconsequentially, he remembered Diane Shelley. She had hardly been a gentleman, not in any sense of the word. "Just ten minutes?" he asked hesitantly.

"I will set an alarm," Hans promised. "It will take that long for the drugs to take effect anyway. Why don't you sit down on the bed and make yourself comfortable."

His mouth was dry. His comfort obviously wasn't an option here, but he sat down anyway, watching as Hans fixed the medication, checking and double checking everything. It looked right, but hell, how much of his medical knowledge came from TV? He didn't have any choice but to trust that Hans was really trying to save Danny. Fuck, of all the people to be trusting Danny's life to...

"And there," Hans said, when everything was arranged to his satisfaction. "We have ten minutes. Let's enjoy ourselves." He walked slowly towards Rusty, deliberate intent in every step.

This was going to happen. He didn't want to look at Danny during this...he _couldn't._ Instead, he picked a spot on the whitewashed wall and focused on it, trying to keep his expression bored and unconcerned.

Hans started with his hair, rubbing his hands through it and making pleased little cooing noises as he twisted short little strands around his fingers. "It is very soft," he said approvingly. "I am surprised. I would have thought the bleach would have made it dry."

He didn't respond. Hans didn't seem to care. Eventually he moved on, stroking his fingers down Rusty's face, exploring around his eyes and nose and cheekbones with awful curiosity, eventually brushing around his mouth, pressing insistently against his lips. "Open wide," he murmured. Rusty hesitated, but only for a moment ( _for Danny!)_ and then his mouth was open and Hans fingers were rubbing over his tongue and around the inside of his cheeks. They tasted of soap and antiseptic, and yet they left the taste of filth in his mouth until he thought he might be sick. It was an eternity before Hans finally took them out with a gentle pop, but Rusty barely got to enjoy a second of relief before Hans laughed and ran his wet fingers around the rim of Rusty's ear, pushing gently inside, and he felt like screaming all over again.

Once he was satisfied, his hands slipped down onto Rusty's bare shoulders, breaking into a firm massage for a good while before he ran down each of Rusty's arms in turn, squeezing approvingly. "You have some nice muscles. You must be stronger than you look." He crept onto Rusty's stomach, probing into his belly button and pinching around his sides. "And not an inch of fat! You must make your lover very happy."

Danny cared about _him_ not his body. When Danny touched him, it never felt like _this._ His eyes were burning as he stared fiercely at the wall, not even blinking in case that gave something away.

It wasn't him that gave himself away. Hans' breathing quickened noticeably as his hands crept up Rusty chest, focusing on his nipples as he _felt_ and _tweaked_ and _twisted._ It hurt more than anything else he'd done so far. It was a sharp and burning pain, but worse was the way he gently rubbed over them afterwards, because that was almost...almost...not... His fingernails dug deep into his palm. Danny. This was all for Danny.

" _Beautiful,_ " Hans whispered. It was the first thing he'd said that didn't seem planned and controlled and Rusty couldn't help but twist round sharply to look at him. His eyes were shining, his lips parted. "They are very red now," he murmured. "So wonderfully responsive. I wonder..." He looked over to the tray of sharp surgical instruments.

A shudder of terror ran through him. "You said that you'd just use your hands," he said quickly.

"So I did, so I did," Hans said disappointedly. "Well, I am a man of my word. For now, I will simply explore you with my fingers. You do feel so _good._ "

He didn't feel good. It hurt and even though this was nothing, really, it made him feel unclean.

The alarm finally went off a lifetime too late.

Hans sighed regretfully. "And now down to business. Get dressed please, tough boy, and wash your hands thoroughly. There are scrubs in that drawer there. Playtime is over."

Silently, Rusty got dressed. He couldn't even look at Danny.


	3. Like you kiss him

He'd assisted with emergency surgery before in his time, but that been with Stan as the surgeon, and Danny hadn't been the one lying on the table being cut open. This was so much worse. It was all he could do to keep up any kind of mask of professional detachment when inside he was screaming with every slice of the scalpel.

“Just think,” Hans said cheerfully, as his gloved hands vanished inside Danny's back, past the peeled-back layers of skin and muscle to the white of exposed bone. “Right now I am deeper inside your lover than you will ever be. Retractor, please. The third one from the left.”

Rusty's hand clenched convulsively around the instrument and he had to force his fingers to release it into the expectant hand. This man shouldn't be allowed to _touch_ Danny. Shouldn't be allowed in the same room. There weren't gloves thick enough in the world.

Thankfully, Hans mostly seemed content to keep his mouth shut while he worked, keeping to requests for instruments or juice, which Rusty fetched and fed him through a straw. He was actually almost as good as Stan at explaining patiently what he needed without getting annoyed, or losing himself in technical talk that Rusty didn't have a hope of understanding. It was...reassuring. His hands moved quickly and with confidence as well, and while Rusty might not be able to tell how well it was going, he seemed to know what he was doing and was actually focused on saving Danny's life.

Even when Hans asked him to mop his brow and Rusty had to step in close and actually touch him, Hans didn't spare him more than a quick leer and that...that wasn't a problem. _(There was a lot he could live with if it meant Danny lived._ )

The bullet rattled as Hans dropped it into the waiting tray.

“That's it?” Rusty asked stupidly. It looked so small.

“That is the easy part,” Hans told him. “Now I must attempt to repair the damage it caused. This will take several hours.”

It did. Rusty didn't know exactly how much time passed, but it felt like years as he watched Hans screw in metal bands, the whine of drill on bone echoing awfully through his head, before he moved onto repairing the mess of oozing blood vessels and picking out tiny slivers of bone – Danny's bone! - and finally closing up the gaping wound. Rusty had a strong stomach but it was only by trying to concentrate on what he was doing and try and forget that this was _Danny_ that he was better to get through it. And then, of course, he felt guilty every time he did forget, even for a second, that this was Danny.

Nothing he'd been through tonight compared, none of it mattered. And still he was exhausted, and when Hans had placed the last stitch, disinfected and dressed the wound, and finally declared them done, the adrenaline wore off all at once and he felt himself sway and had to stumble backwards towards the bed.

“Hey!” Hans cried out in alarm and a second later Rusty felt an unwelcome arm around his waist and he struggled uselessly as he was guided to lie back for a moment.

“You should have told me if you needed a break,” Hans scolded firmly. “You could have sat down for a minute without hurting your lover. There is no need to try to be that tough.”

“Is he....” Rusty didn't know how to finish the sentence.

“We will have to wait and see. He will need to be kept completely motionless for twenty four hours. I will keep him under. After that, we can transfer him to the bed and I will run some tests to check what the extent of injury is. He will need to lie still for at least a couple of weeks before you can think of moving him at all.”

A couple of weeks. There were people looking for them. And if he told Hans that, he was afraid they might just be thrown out onto the street. Hans' principles were not something he wanted to trust their lives to. ( _And yet that was exactly what he was doing._ ) “I can pay you for the inconvenience,” he said. “And more when we leave.”

Hans nodded. “Yes,” he agreed archly. “I know.”

Of course, he thought dully. For a moment he'd been blinded by the professionalism and competence, and it had almost slipped his mind that money wasn't the only thing Hans was interested in.

Humming under his breath, Hans moved back towards Danny and started peeling back the sheet that covered him below the waist.

“What are you doing?” Rusty demanded sharply, sitting up instantly.

Hans looked over at him. “Oh, your lover made quite a mess. I thought it would be better if I cleaned it up and then I can insert a catheter to prevent any more accidents.”

Oh. He hadn't noticed at the time, but yeah, he could smell it. “I'll do that,” he snapped, leaping out of bed and hurrying to grab the wipes out of Hans' hands before he so much as _touched_ Danny.

“Very well,” Hans murmured. “Do be careful to be as gently as possible. Moving his spine at this stage would be very bad.”

Rusty didn't need to be told to be gentle. He cleaned Danny up with feather light touches and patted him dry, and tried not to imagine how much Danny would _hate_ this.

“Very nice,” Hans approved, standing so close Rusty could feel hot breath on the back of his neck. “Now, you know there is a good chance he will be confined to bed for the rest of his life. How would you feel, I wonder, having to wipe your lover's arse for him every day for the rest of his life? Would you leave him?”

With a shudder, he imagined Danny trapped in one room – in one bed – for the rest of his life. Going from a world of unimaginable adventure and wonder to staring at the same four walls every day forever. Stripped of life, of _dignity..._ it would drive Danny mad, he was sure of it. Oh, _fuck._ Please. If there was anything out there listening, _please._ Please don't let that happen.

Aloud – and not to Hans, never to Hans – he said “I will never leave him.”

“That is touching,” Hans said, and Rusty couldn't tell if it was a sneer or not. “Now, move out of the way so I can get this in.” He held up a catheter.

Rusty felt his mouth twist. “I don't want you touching him,” he snarled. Not there. Not like that. Not ever.

“Come, now,” Hans sighed. “Is that any way to talk to the man who just saved your lover's life. Do _you_ know how to place a catheter?”

He stood, staring at Hans helplessly. He didn't, of course. He should. He could have had Stan or someone show him...why had he never realised it might come in useful?”

“That is what I thought,” Hans nodded. “Now. Step aside.”

He stepped aside.

In a twisted way, this was even worse than watching Hans operate on Danny. Because he barely bothered to cloak his actions in the veneer of professionalism. His splayed hand rested on Danny's thigh, his hand lingered as he lifted Danny's cock too quick for Rusty to voice an objection. “You know,” Hans said conversationally. “His penis is most definitely thicker than yours, but I'm not sure if it is longer. I should love to see you both aroused at once so I could make a proper comparison.”

“That's never gonna happen,” Rusty spat.

“Yes, I know,” Hans sighed regretfully. “Sadly, loss of sexual function is a common result of spinal injury. I'm afraid the two of you may need to content yourselves with cuddling from now on.”

“That's not - “ Rusty began, and subsided immediately. Hans already knew that wasn't what he meant and didn't care.

“That's not enough for you?” Hans finished sympathetically. “I'm not surprised. His penis _is_ very nice. If that's what you've been used to, I suppose it is difficult to imagine going without. Still, there are always substitutes. Perhaps you could take other lovers. Perhaps he would even enjoy watching.”

Rusty's fist was clenched. He mustn't hit Hans. They were dependent on his good will.

“Or perhaps he might find he takes pleasure in watching you pleasure yourself with a nice fat dildo?” Hans suggested encouragingly, finishing up with an unnecessary caress and mercifully stepping away from Danny. “You get some very realistic looking ones, you know. You could even both pretend it was him. There are always options, if you have the imagination.” His smile was bright and knowing.

Inescapably, Rusty took a step towards him.

“Your lover will need close monitoring and a complex series of drugs and treatments,” Hans said quickly. “He may even need further surgery. You can assume that the nicer you are to me the more effort I shall put in.”

Danny was out of immediate danger...but Danny couldn't be moved. He could call another doctor...somehow...but there were still people looking for them and that would mean they'd be more likely to be discovered. And anything like that would take time which meant Hans could hurt Danny, and Danny was helpless.

_Fuck._ He held his hands up in surrender. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Hans' eyes were sharp. “Tough boys like you need to learn their place. Now. I am going upstairs for a few hours sleep. I have left the medication running so your lover should be fine, but the monitoring equipment is connected to my pager so I will be alerted immediately if anything changes. That said, having a pair of eyes on the patient is always helpful, so I expect you to alert me if you think anything might be wrong or different.” He handed Rusty a button. “That will automatically trigger an alarm that will go to my pager.”

Yes, he supposed a phone was too much to ask for. He took a deep breath.” Thank you,” he said remotely. “For saving him.”

Hans looked at him in surprise for a second then smiled. “I think I deserve a better kind of thank you,” he said. “I should like a goodnight kiss.”

Rusty clenched his jaw. A kiss. He could do that. Not trusting himself to speak, he stepped forwards and leaned in to kiss Hans on the lips, quick and chaste and dry.

Eyes gleaming, Hans shook his head. “No, no, no,” he scolded. “Do you really call that a kiss? You can do better than that. Kiss me like you kiss  _him._ ”

_No._ And yet, the answer was yes. Soul screaming, he leaned in to Hans again, his eyes closed this time, and this time he lingered, letting his lips part and when Hans' tongue swept into his mouth he played with it, teased it, and as Hans' hands came up and gripped his hair, pulling him in closer, he could feel Hans' erection pressing into his hip. 

No more. No more. Let this be enough,  _please._

“That was very nice,” Hans panted as they broke apart. “You are very gifted with your mouth. I shall have to remember that.” He smiled widely. “Goodnight now.”

“Goodnight,” Rusty repeated tonelessly. He watched Hans climb the stairs and close the door behind him, before racing up after him. As he'd expected, the door was locked and with no obvious mechanism on this side.

It wasn't a surprise; Hans was too confident and too prepared for Rusty to think they were the first to be caught like this. He imagined it was usually the patient himself being coerced into paying with more than money – Hans must be delighted to get someone healthy to play with, especially considering they were going to be trapped for so long.

His fist slammed into the wall. This was going to get so much worse. For Danny, though. He reminded himself. Everything was alright if it was for Danny.

Slowly he trudged back down the stairs, watching Danny's face as he slept. Danny wouldn't be so convinced of that. He closed his eyes briefly, unconsciously wiping at his mouth. He could still taste the kiss. Disgusted, he went to the sink and rinsed his mouth out several times, hoping that if he could just get the taste away it wouldn't have happened. None of it would have happened. Eventually, he gave up and just stood there a moment, head bowed against the wall, hand gripping the rim of the sink to hold him up.

“So,” he said at last, turning his head slightly to look at Danny. “This has been one hell of a day.” His voice was just a little too loud in the quiet basement, just a little too high-pitched. Even to his own ears, he sounded on the verge of hysteria and that was no good.

Standing up straight, head held high, he walked back over towards Danny but stopped feet from the table, struggling to go even one step further. _Fragile_ wasn't a word he'd normally associate with Danny but now....oh, fuck, now... He swallowed hard. “I can't touch you,” he said, his voice softer now. “Hans... _he_ said you can't be moved. And there's no way I'm risking hurting you any more.” It still seemed so cruel. Danny needed to be touched. “You're not awake right now,” he said, trying to justify himself. “It's not like you need the comfort.”

The stillness on Danny's face somehow managed to look accusatory. Rusty's fingernails dug deep into his own palm. “I'm sorry,” he said, low and rough and miserable. “Oh, fuck, Danny, I'm _sorry._ I don't know what went wrong.” That still made it so much worse. Danny had the brilliant, reckless, impossible plans; Rusty was supposed to make sure that they didn't get hurt or caught. And here they were, trapped, and Danny was so much more hurt than even Rusty's worst nightmares. “I let you down. Everything I've done tonight has been wrong.”

He stood and watched the flicker of Danny's heartbeat across the monitor for a while. It was comforting. “I let him see that we were together,” he admitted. He gave a bitter laugh. “Pretty fucked up, huh? I spent the last six months not letting you tell our friends, and then I just give it away to an enemy. Yeah. Pretty fucking stupid of me.” And that wasn't the worse. He took a long, shaky breath. “I think he would've gone after me anyway. Don't think that was anything to do with _us.”_

Unconsciously, he wiped across his mouth with the back of his hand again. That was the first time he'd kissed anyone but Danny in three months. He hadn't really had a choice, so it shouldn't feel like cheating, but it did. “Sorry,” he whispered, more to soothe his own conscience than anything else. He'd been a lot of things in his life, but never a cheater. Not like that.

The memory, _feeling_ of hands was still clinging to his chest. The scrub top he was wearing didn't feel like it covered him enough. ( _Danny's blood was still on it, stained right through to his skin._ ) “He's not going to stop,” he said to Danny, only because he was so very sure that Danny couldn't hear him. “He can do whatever he likes. He knows I won't stop him. Doubt he's going to be content with a quick kiss and a bit of groping.” It was so very easy to picture the look on Danny's face at that. Pale and outraged and horrified. He ran his hands through his hair, angrily pulling at it, enough to make it _hurt._ “What do you expect me to do?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “We need him. He's the only doctor here, and you need help and can't be moved. And if I call Stan, or someone, ask them to come down here, you really think Hans won't find out? This is his territory.” And Danny was more vulnerable than he ever had been. “Not to mention, there are still people looking for us. We make any kind of noise, and they're going to find this place, and they're going to kill everyone here, you, me, Stan...” He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. And when he spoke his voice was absolutely steady. “Next to that, does it really matter if I let him fuck me?”

Danny's answer was yes. That it would _always_ matter. And right now, Rusty couldn't listen to that.

“Going to need to call someone to get us out of here eventually,” he said wearily. “Bobby, maybe. He's got the contacts, the resources...” And if Bobby had the slightest idea what was going on here, that Danny was _hurt,_ he'd be here in an instant. Only problem with that was... “Making noise again,” he agreed. “Back to them killing everyone.” And if Bobby knew what Hans was doing, that might just include him too.

“Hans has to know that,” he said slowly, rubbing his fist against his forehead. “He has to expect some sort of payback, right?” And he'd told Hans that no one knew they were here. He grimaced. “Told you. Everything I've done tonight is wrong. Okay. So, if I can get a message to Bobby....not now, but when you're recovering....if I can give him more info about who Hans is, then Hans will know he can't...dispose of us...and be safe. He'll have to let us go.” He nodded to himself, trying to sound comforting. “You see, Danny? This is all just temporary. Everything will be alright. I'll _make_ it alright. I'll promise him. He takes care of you, and everything else will stay between him and me. No one will ever know. Especially not you.”

Danny didn't move. His chest rose and fell with the movement of the ventilator.

Rusty stepped away from Danny quickly, pacing angrily across the floor. “Don't look at me like that, _you don't need to know._ Whatever happens, happens. And you knowing won't change that. It'll just hurt you. And fuck knows, I've hurt you enough already.”

And didn't that just bring it all back. The anger...the agitation...subsided, and he slumped down onto the floor beside the operating table, on guard and waiting. Danny might never walk again. Danny might never... He bit his lip hard and stared determinedly ahead of himself until the threat of tears retreated. “You're going to get better. That's all you need to concentrate on right now. Getting better. And I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen, I swear it.”

His hands were flat on the floor, his fingernails scraping into the concrete. He stared up the stairs, towards where Hans had disappeared. “Whatever it takes.”


	4. If you love him you'll swallow it

_It had taken three weeks working flat out, neither of them had slept in fifty hours, and their shoulders were still aching from the hundred-and-fifty foot abseil...but they were alive and what's more they were millionaires. Or at least between them they were_ a  _millionaire. But that was the sort of detail that really didn't matter._

_He turned to Danny, laughing with sheer, giddy joy. It was a good day. The best. And Danny was laughing too, even while the rain poured down around them, soaking them both through to the skin. “We should - “ he started to say, about to offer some suggestion of alcohol and pizza, like he had so many times before, but that was when Danny leaned in and kissed him._

_It was soft and urgent all at once. Tender and hot and absolutely loving, and it seemed to last a hundred years._

“ _Was that alright?” Danny asked with uncharacteristic hesitation as he drew back._

_There were questions in Rusty's mind. Questions around “Why?” and “Why now?” and “Are you sure?” But there was uncertainty in Danny's eyes, uncertainty about Rusty's reaction, about_ them  _and all the questions could wait for another day._

“ _Definitely,” he murmured, the smile playing around his lips. “But let's try it a few more times just to be sure.”_

_*_

For a moment when he woke, the memory of warmth and Danny still bright in his mind, he wasn't sure why he was sleeping on the floor. Then yesterday came flooding back and he looked up at Danny anxiously, guilty to have fallen asleep even for a moment. Nothing had changed. Danny's face was still blank and still. He stood up to check on the machines and there didn't seem to be anything new there either. Danny's heart was still beating. The medication was still being pumped into his veins. Everything was very far from fine, but they were no worse off than last night.

He glanced at his watch. It was a little after eight, which meant he could only have been asleep for ten minutes or so, which was a slight comfort. Still, he couldn't let it happen again, and he stood up, slowly, pacing across the floor, trying to work the knots out of his back.

“I dreamt about the night you first kissed me,” he said, glancing over at Danny. “After the Toronto job, do you remember? Felt like we were walking on air.” He rolled his neck restlessly. “I still don't know why then,” he added. “You said it was an impulse thing – because I just looked so damned kissable – but it was more than that.” There was a burning sensation in his eyes. “Eight years of friendship, and then....” He shook his head. “S'ppose it doesn't matter now.”

Exhausted, he stepped into the bathroom at the end of the basement and splashed some cold water on his face. It helped wake him up a bit, even if it didn't help him feel anymore human. He caught sight of the blood splashed across him, and with a shudder, he hauled the scrub top off. Fuck.

He couldn't help but notice that the bathroom was fully equipped with a shower stall, and everything you could possibly want. This place was designed to keep someone for a very long time.

Expressionless, not thinking about anything, he changed back into yesterday's shirt and made himself a cup of coffee before he walked back to Danny and took up his seat on the floor again. There was still no change. Not that he really expected there to be. “Any time you want to talk to me would be fine,” he said softly.

Time passed in silence.

Eventually there was a noise from the top of the stairs and he looked up sharply to see the panel slide open. He was on his feet in an instant, long before Hans had so much as set foot on the stairs, positioning himself protectively in front of Danny.

Hans sighed theatrically. “And to think I brought you breakfast,” he said, holding up a plate with a sandwich on.

Food was the last thing on Rusty's mind. “What do you want?” he snarled.

Hans clicked his tongue. “In civilised countries we say 'good morning'.”

“In civilised countries we don't blackmail people into sex,” Rusty shot back.

“Mmm.” Hans continued to smile, but his eyes darkened angrily. “I know you're eager, but I would remind you we have not had sex. Also I would be willing to bet you cannot name one country, civilised or not, where that is actually true. Men will be men. We all have our little...peccadilloes. It is simply that they are not discussed in polite company.”

“I think you're confusing 'peccadilloes' with 'perversions,” Rusty told him, smiling with just a little more contempt than he could really justify.

Hans' eyes narrowed. “You are very rude this morning,” he said disapprovingly. “I think I would like it if we started over. Good morning.”

The threat didn't need to be articulated. They both already knew he'd do anything Hans wanted. If that included _politeness...._ well, he could do that too. “Good morning,” he repeated clearly.

“You know, this seems too formal after last night,” Hans mused. “It makes me feel a little awkward around you, and I don't enjoy feeling awkward. I think I would like it if you kissed me hello every time I came in.”

“Would you?” Rusty asked tonelessly.

“Yes,” Hans smiled sweetly. “You may kiss me when I arrive and as I am leaving. Now. Good morning.” He waited expectantly.

He'd done this last night. It didn't matter a shred more now than it had then. He wasn't giving up any new ground. Stonefaced, he walked across the floor to Hans and kissed him with clinical passion.

“Very nice indeed,” Hans approved, brushing past Rusty to scrub his hands at the sink and don a pair of latex gloves. “Now, why don't you eat that sandwich while I examine your lover?”

Even if he had an appetite right now, he really didn't want to eat anything Hans had prepared, especially in front of him. But If he wanted to be of any use to Danny at all, he needed to keep his strength up, and that meant eating when he could. And he really didn't put it past Hans to take the food way if Rusty didn't eat when he was told. That sort of pettiness seemed all too likely.

It was a bacon sandwich. Still warm. He swallowed it down and didn't taste it at all.

Hans finished his exam and nodded, frowning. “His blood pressure is still very low. I will give him another transfusion as soon as my friend arrives, which should be within the next few hours. Until then I will be upstairs. I have some work to do, but I will pop in and out to check on him as appropriate.”

“How's he doing?” Rusty asked anxiously. “Is he - “

“ - it is too early to tell,” Hans cut in, sympathy oozing through his voice. “Now. Goodbye for the moment.” He waited with that same air of expectation until Rusty kissed him. “You are very kissable,” he said afterwards, dreamily, and he smiled when Rusty wasn't quite quick enough to hide the flinch.

Hans found excuses to come back downstairs several more times over the next few hours. Medications that had to be given, readings that had to be checked, and after the thirdfourth time, kissing him became if not easy then at least reflex. As long as he kept checking Danny, Rusty could make himself not mind. If what Hans wanted was reaction and humiliation then Rusty would be damned if he'd oblige.

And when Hans came downstairs with his friend two steps behind him holding a medical transport box, Rusty didn't hesitate before walking up to Hans and kissing him thoroughly, just like every other time, even though he could hear the other man sniggering.

The man said something to Hans, too fast for Rusty to hope to understand. Didn't matter. He didn't need the translation to understand the tone, let alone the leer.

“Sorry,” Hans said, and Rusty had no doubt the English was strictly for his benefit. “You know I don't like to share my toys when they're still so new.” He reached out and gently ran his hand down Rusty's cheek. “This one needs careful handling.”

Another snigger, and this time Rusty caught some of the crude suggestion.

“Maybe later,” Hans promised, and Rusty hid the chill of dread as only he could.

“I thought you said you wanted to do the blood transfusion as soon as possible,” he reminded Hans coolly.

“You are right, of course,” Hans agreed. “Very well. We have six units of A positive, freshly stolen from the hospital. I hope that does not bother you. I will transfuse two of them now and we will keep the rest back for emergencies. And now we owe my friend here five hundred dollars US. Please pay the man.”

He nodded evenly and went into his jacket for the cash, turning his back so neither of them saw how much he had. Five crisp bills, and the blood thief's eyes gleamed and he said something about being happy to offer a discount if Rusty would just – and then Hans cleared his throat pointedly and with one last envious leer, he vanished up the stairs, closing the panel behind him.

“He has his uses,” Hans remarked. “Now, I will set this up and then I fear I must leave you again.”

It was unnerving watching the blood draining into Danny. He took some comfort in the fact that it had been stolen from the hospital. That almost certainly meant that it had been screened and was clean...but nothing felt like it was clean right now. He couldn't even begin to relax.

The transfusion took three hours. Hans came back in just as it was finishing up. He was smiling as he walked down the stairs, and his hand was in his pants, groping himself openly with evident pleasure. For a moment, all Rusty could do was stare in shock and disgust and Hans smiled warmly. “Now, let's see,” he said, his voice a little more strained than usual. “I think we had best get this needle out, don't you? And then I want to check his wound.” He took a step towards Danny and Rusty was there immediately, blocking his way.

“Wash your hands first,” he warned tightly.

Hans kept his eyes fixed on Rusty. His hand kept moving. “No,” he said simply.

_No?_ The thought of Hans touching Danny at all was anathema. The thought of Hans touching Danny  _now_ with  _that,_ let alone going near an open wound.... “Wash your fucking hands,” he said, low and dangerous. “And put gloves on.” 

“But I don't want to,” Hans complained. “It takes so much time, and it is so boring. No, I think from now on I will not bother with it.”

It wasn't just a question of natural disgust. There were reasons doctors wore gloves, after all. The amount of germs that would be on Hans' bare hands right now was unthinkable. The thought of going through all this, only to lose Danny to some infection....no! “What do you want?” he asked. There had to be something Hans had in mind.

Hans acted like he hadn't heard him. “Perhaps if I was entertained while washing it would be easier to bother with it,” he mused. “I should like it if I stimulated me while I attend to it.”

Rusty nodded and ignored the way his mouth was dry. “You want me to jerk you off while you wash your hands.”

“Must you be so crude?” Hans chided exasperatedly. “But in essence, yes. You are correct.”

“Alright then.” He jerked his towards the sink tersely. “Start washing.”

“You really do not trust me at all, do you?” Hans said with a sigh as he obligingly, walked over to the sink, his hands in the air pointedly, his erection straining at the front of his pants.

Rusty waited until the tap was on before he even started to bring his hand towards Hans' pants.

“Please, take my penis out of my trousers before you begin,” Hans said sweetly. “I dislike the thought of ejaculating in my underwear. I would find that _very_ humiliating, wouldn't you? It would show a complete lack of control...like a horny little boy.” 

Right. Rusty nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak. He could do this. There was no difference here between this and any other guy he'd ever jerked off. This was even less intimate than kissing, certainly it was nothing like as bad as letting Hans put his hands all over him. If he could do that, he could certainly do this. He reached into Hans' pants and grabbed his cock. He could do this. His hand wasn't even trembling as he started to stroke.

“Please look at me while you work,” Hans said, smiling. “I like to see your eyes. They are very pretty.”

Oh, fuck. He felt the shudder tear through him, and worse, he knew Hans did too. Still, he looked straight in the eye and let his hand mechanically work the clammy flesh. This was nothing. This was nothing. This was....

_(Danny!)_

Eventually, after far longer than Rusty would have thought possible, Hans shuddered and exploded over Rusty's hand.

“Thank you,” he panted approvingly. “That was very accomplished. Now, please clean my penis before you put it away. There is a handkerchief in my jacket pocket. Use your other hand, if you will.”

Dully, Rusty fished into the jacket for the handkerchief. It was silk. Embroidered with the initials HL in a complex knot. Rusty just wished it felt like sandpaper, and he tried his best to surreptitiously clean his hand at the same time.

( _Not enough soap and water in the world._ )

“You may keep the handkerchief,” Hans said magnanimously when he was done. “Somehow, I always find that ejaculate carries a special kind of dirt, don't you think? Whatever a man leaves it I believe it , that thing is ruined forever.”

“I think that just applies to you,” Rusty said steadily.

Hans just laughed. If nothing else, at least Rusty had put him in a good mood. “Well, that was actually most enjoyable. I believe I shall be washing my hands a great deal more if that is what I have to look forward to.”

Yeah. Rusty didn't doubt it. And just for now he felt too numb to care. _That was nothing,_ he reminded himself jeeringly.

Mercifully, Hans turned his professional attention to Danny, removing the transfusion equipment, pulling back the dressings and examining the wound, checking the monitors, and making pleased sounding noises at whatever they were showing. “Very good,” he said. “Tomorrow morning we will transfer him into the bed and I will reduce his sedation. Then we will see where we are.”

Rusty closed his eyes. Every little promise of hope made this even more worth it. Danny would get better, and they'd leave this place and he'd never have to think about anything that happened here again.

After Hans had left with a lingering kiss, he slid down to the floor and stared vacantly at the ground beneath the table for a very long time, unmoving, unthinking.

“After all,” he said at last, hollow words breaking the silence. “He hasn't actually hurt me. And he hasn't done a thing I didn't explicitly agree to.”

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Danny being swayed by those arguments.

Hans reappeared four or five more times that afternoon. Despite what he'd said, he didn't insist that Rusty jerk him off to completion every time. Sometimes he didn't even get hard. Sometimes just a couple of quick strokes was enough for him to tell Rusty to stop. And that told him this wasn't so much about sexual pleasure as the pleasure he took from making Rusty do it. But really, that was nothing he hadn't already known.

No matter what, the smell of sex clung to him. Hans was right; some stains didn't go away.

And then, around dinner time, when Rusty was incredulously trying to understand just how the hell he could be _hungry,_ Hans came downstairs slowly and waved away Rusty's automatic motion to kiss him.

His face was pale. His eyes were dark and cold and serious. Something had happened, and Rusty stood his ground with an anxious glance at Danny. There hadn't been any changes. He'd been watching, and nothing on any of the monitors had changed, and Danny's chest was still rising and falling with each ventilated breath.

“So,” Hans began, after a long moment's silence. “As it happens, I am in the habit of listening to the news at seven every evening. Did you know that?”

Mutely, he shook his head. But he thought he knew where this must be going and the tension shot through him as his mind raced, trying to find answers before they got to the questions.

“I haven't seen a paper today because I have been too busy attending to you and your lover,” Hans continued. “In fact, I have been terribly cut off from the world, thanks to you. So I'm sure you can imagine my shock when I turned on the radio and found that one story and one story alone was on everyone's lips. Can you guess what that was?”

He bit back on the smart answer. That wouldn't help them now. “Yes,” he admitted instead.

“Last night, the president's palace was robbed,” Hans said heavily. “Countless treasures were stolen. And the police and the military are desperately trying to trace the thieves. Two men. Foreigners. One may be wounded. Does this sound familiar to you?”

Rusty took a deep breath. “With a set up like this, you can't expect me to believe that all your other patients are legitimate.”

“Do you have any idea what they will do to me if they suspect me of harbouring you?” Hans demanded furiously. “It will make all the little fun I have been having at your expense look like a nice Sunday afternoon's picnic. I should throw you out onto the street while I still have the chance.”

“Look,” Rusty said softly. “We're professionals, I won't deny that. And that means we have rules. If one of our contacts... _helps_ us,” He managed not to choke on the words. “Then no one will ever hear their name for us, no matter what. You saved Danny's life, that means I'm gonna do my best to keep you safe. But if you fuck us over I swear not only will they know exactly where to find you, I'll swear blind you've been working with us for years.”

That would depend on Rusty being in a position to talk. He watched the thought cross Hans' face. That was okay though. That had just been the stick. The carrot was so much more. ( _So much worse._ )

“Besides,” he went on, his voice dropping down to something low and breathy. “You were saying earlier I have a talented mouth. If you let us go now, you'll never know just how talented. And that would be a terrible shame, don't you think?” He walked slowly over to Hans, letting his mouth curve his hips sway. “I'm really _very_ good,” he murmured, rubbing his body up against Hans and gently sliding down, making sure to press himself against all the right spots. “I can take you places you've never even imagined. Mmmm.” He ended in breathy, needy moan; on his knees and looking up at Hans through his eyelashes. “You interested?” he asked, and that was rhetorical, cos Hans' interest was staring him right in the face. “I can even beg you for it, if you like. Please. Please, let me suck your cock. I _want_ it. I need it. Let me...fellate you.”

He caught the gleam in Hans eyes at his choice of words and smiled grimly to himself. Easy. And _necessary,_ Danny.

Of course, he knew damned well that Hans didn't think for a second that he actually wanted this. But the sick bastard would get off on watching Rusty demean himself this way. And meanwhile he was completely focused on his dick and he was doing what Rusty suggested, and in the right light, if he squinted, Rusty could tell himself that meant he was in control here.

“ _Please,_ ” he said one more time, clasping his hands submissively behind his back.

Hans looked at him benevolently. “Very well.”

He'd given himself a lot of build up here. He had a hell of a lot to live up to, and he couldn't afford to fail.

( _The last time he'd been this nervous about a blowjob had been the first time with Danny..._ )

He used every trick he'd ever learned. Did things with his mouth and tongue that had Hans gasping and moaning and grabbing Rusty's hair for support. ( _All the things that made Danny gasp and moan and hold him – no!_ )

This time it was him that insisted on eye contact, keeping careful track of what he was doing and how Hans was reacting, and he tried to keep the wanton begging alive in his eyes, but he could feel the shame and self-disgust creep in, and Hans let out a bellow and said something filthy in German, and Rusty's mouth was flooded with salt and slime.

“If you love him, you'll swallow it,” Hans said sweetly.

Rusty swallowed it down and didn't taste a thing.

Hans' fingers stayed tangled in his hair. “Well,” he said sedately. “That was certainly a revelation. Thank you, tough boy. You may do that whenever you wish.”

Which would be whenever Hans suggested it. He only hoped he wouldn't have to beg every time.

“I think,” Hans went on, carding his fingers through Rusty's hair affectionately. “That this would be an appropriate time to discuss my payment.” Rusty breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked. “My normal fee for this kind of operation is ten thousand dollars. I will charge an additional thousand dollars per day for room and board.”

Rusty stayed on his knees and looked up at him. “Half the fee now, and half when we leave,” he suggested. “And I'll settle up our hotel bill then too.”

Hans' lips quirked appreciatively. “Very well,” he agreed and stepped back, letting Rusty go get his money.

A good thing they'd taken payment for the job via wire transfer. If Hans could get his hands on what he deemed enough money immediately, their position would be even more precarious.

“There you go,” he said, giving him the bills. He was left with $1500, which he could maybe tempt Hans with in a pinch.... Fuck. Who was he kidding? It wasn't going to be his money he was bribing Hans with from now on.

“Thank you,” Hans said. “In the circumstances, I do not believe I will give you a receipt.” He laughed to himself. “It isn't often I get a blowjob like that and then the boy pays _me,_ ” he said, like it was a great joke.

No. Rusty imagined not.

His every nerve was strained to breaking point, and in his mind he could feel Danny's eyes on the back of his neck, shocked and hurt and betrayed.

“Goodnight, then,” Hans said, when it was obvious he wasn't going to react.

“Goodnight,” Rusty echoed, leaning in automatically for the expected kiss.

Hans shoved him away playfully. “I think _not,”_ he said decidedly. “Not when I know where you have been. Tomorrow, I will bring you down some mouthwash and then we will see.”

He could feel the flush of shame rise in his cheeks. He watched in silence as Hans left and then sank to the floor next to Danny. This time he didn't even try to wash the taste away. It was always going to be part of him now, no matter what.

“You know,” he said dully, to the silence-that-was-Danny. “It was never that I didn't love you. We both said we wanted to keep this... _us..._ to ourselves, cos it was no one else's business, but there was a part of you that wanted to shout it from the rooftops I know. And I didn't even want to tell Saul. Don't pretend that didn't hurt you.” His hands were covering his face. His fingernails raked deep into his skin. “I was always afraid that eventually we'd realise you wanted something I can't give you.”

He looked up slowly. “Why me, Danny? And don't say it's all about love, cos we already had that, and right now I'm talking about sex. All the emotional connection in the world won't work if there isn't a physical attraction as well. And you like _women,_ Danny.” Women and him, because it wasn't like he could deny the evidence. The physical attraction had very much been there; Danny wanted his body. Him. He understood how Danny felt, he just wasn't sure why _,_ and somehow that mattered. “Maybe I'm just that fuckable,” he said wryly, and he laughed only it wasn't funny.

He let his head fall back onto the hard tile with a thump. It was cold, or at least he was shivering. “We were home right now, I'd be lying on the sofa with a blanket,” he told Danny. “You'd be beside me. We'd have a tub of chocolate ice cream between us, and we'd be watching Ghostbusters, and you'd be quoting all the best bits a second before we got to them until I got pissed and recited the whole thing until you took my spoon to shut me up and...and....”

He imagined Danny, whole and happy and healthy.

He pretended the tears weren't falling.

*

_There was a spectacular view of the city out through the window behind them. The bright lights were reflected in the water like so much starlight._

_Right now, with Danny sitting on the bed above him, the view was the last thing Rusty was thinking about. “We could be about to ruin a beautiful friendship,” he said lightly._

“ _Oh, I'm sure you can't be_ that _bad,” Danny grinned, but his eyes were reminding Rusty that it wasn't too late to back out, that it was_ never _too late to back out, that 'no' was always an option...only, no_ wasn't _an option anymore and Rusty couldn't remember why._

_He leaned forwards and his tongue flicked out teasingly. Above him Danny gasped and it was easy to just lean forwards and get to work. He used every trick he'd ever learned, did things with his mouth and tongue that had Danny gasping and moaning and clutching Rusty's shoulder for support, except now Danny's hand was wrapped in his hair as well, pulling just a little too hard to be comfortable, and that wasn't_ right.

_Danny jerked suddenly and a second later Rusty's mouth was filled with bitter salt._

“ _Sorry,” Danny said, sounding startled._

_Rusty grinned and reached for the tissues._

“ _If you loved me, you'd swallow it,” Danny said angrily, and when Rusty looked up, Danny's eyes were shocked and hurt and betrayed._

_This wasn't right. This wasn't the way it had happened. He swallowed and it tasted like submission and razor blades, and Danny still wasn't satisfied and Rusty remembered what came next and it wasn't..._ he  _wasn't...._

He woke with a shout, his arms pushed out defensively, and he looked around wildly, bile coating his throat.

Danny was still lying there. Still hurt, still paralysed and barely alive, and Rusty remembered his dream with a shudder.

It was just a dream. Nothing more. Except some of it had been real, obviously. Most of it. He sat up, his fingers digging deep into his arms, as he struggled to tear reality from nightmare. It hadn't been like that. That had been one of the best nights of his life, and it had been about the pleasure of giving pleasure, not...not _that._ And Danny sure as hell hadn't told him to swallow like that.

Except...except he had swallowed. That time and most times after. And he didn't usually. He swallowed, and Danny _liked_ it. He could remember the dark heat in Danny's eyes as he watched. Not that Danny had actually asked him to...but he did it because he wanted to make Danny happy, didn't he? So Danny wouldn't have been as happy if he didn't. Had there been any other reason? Fuck, did it matter if there _was?_

He just didn't know anymore. Nothing felt the way it should. He watched Danny sleep and tried to remember the way Danny had looked at him.


	5. I would like your pleasure

Hans came downstairs early the next morning dressed ridiculously in a long nightshirt and sporting prominent morning wood. "Would you like to take care of this for me?" he asked, smiling between the yawns, and Rusty got down on his knees without a word.

After he'd come, thrusting lazily into Rusty's mouth, he vanished for half an hour or so, and reappeared with the promised mouthwash and two cooked breakfasts he insisted they ate together. It felt like payment. It tasted like ash.

Just like Hans had said, they spent the first part of the morning moving Danny onto the bed. It took well over an hour of Hans' detailed and patient instructions, and attaching Danny to boards and hard collars and straps until Danny couldn't move if he tried. Which was the point, he supposed. And then there was half an hour or so of watching Hans fussing around the wires and tubes, making sure that nothing had come unattached.

"There," Hans said when he was done at last. "And now he will need to be kept prone on bed rest like that for several weeks."

Several weeks. He felt his heat clench. "Can you be more specific?" he asked.

"We shall see," Hans said with an evasive shrug.

Of course. And he wasn't even sure whether Hans was thinking of kicking them out early...or keeping them. "Should he really be on his back like that?" he asked doubtfully, changing the subject. "His weight must be pressing on the wound."

"I made sure it was well dressed," Hans promised comfortingly. "Is it the most comfortable position for him to be in? No. The best for his spine? Oh, yes. You do _want_ Danny to get better, don't you?"

"Of course, I - " He froze as he registered the name. How did...oh. Oh, fuck, he'd used it last night, hadn't he? Damnit, he hadn't meant to give Hans their names. "Of course I do," he finished evenly.

"Well then we are in agreement," Hans said cheerfully. "His vital signs have remained pleasingly steady. I believe I would like to try extubating him now. We shall see how well he manages on his own for a while. And I am also reducing his sedation. In a few hours we will know whether he is completely paralysed at least. This is a critical time so I will stay down here for now. I trust you will not mind having a room mate?"

"Whatever Danny needs," Rusty agreed stiffly. It wasn't as if he could complain about Hans actually acting like a doctor.

"Very good," Hans beamed. "Now, how will we occupy ourselves during our vigil, mmm?"

Rusty tilted his head. "Got a pack of cards?" he suggested.

Thankfully, letting Hans win at various games kept him distracted for the rest of the morning, barring the inevitable handjob every time he washed his hands to check on Danny.

"You look tired," Hans told him after one of those, gazing at him critically. "There are dark shadows beneath your eyes. I am afraid they ruin your looks some."

He shrugged uncaringly. "I suppose that bothers you."

"I enjoy looking at pretty things," Hans allowed. "But I am speaking as a doctor now. You need to get your rest. Sleep deprivation can be very serious."

Yeah. He didn't exactly think there was much chance of him closing his eyes for eight hours while they were in this hellhole. He ignored Hans and sat on the chair next to Danny's bed, his eyes fixed on Danny's face beneath the oxygen mask. Hans said he'd reduced the sedation, but so far Rusty hadn't seen any difference. Danny was so still he might almost be dead.

"You may touch him, if you wish," Hans said, eyeing him curiously.

He honestly wasn't sure if the innuendo was in Hans' voice or just in his head. It didn't matter though; he took Danny's hand in his and tried his best to pretend he hadn't hesitated.

Hans disappeared again around lunchtime and Rusty took the opportunity to stretch his legs and use the bathroom. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving Hans with Danny on the wrong side of a closed door, but leaving the door _open..._ well, that carried it's own set of distasteful possibilities. Of course, hoping that Hans would stay gone long enough for him to take a shower was a non starter, even though he was conscious it had been a couple of days now and the prickling unclean feeling across his skin probably wasn't just in his head. Maybe tonight, when Hans had gone to bed, if he could deal with leaving Danny alone that long.

Mind you, maybe if he didn't wash then Hans would find him less appealing...

No. He wanted to keep Hans' interested so Hans would help Danny.

He made himself another cup of black coffee and sat back by Danny.

Strange, he wasn't exactly afraid of Hans. He felt disgust and dread, coiled deep in his stomach, but fear? Not so much. Like Hans had said, he probably would win in a physical confrontation. The power he had was the power Rusty was _letting_ him have.

Sooner or later, Hans was going to want to fuck him. It was inevitable; Rusty was sure. He'd been savouring each new degradation like a man slowly working through some delicious buffet, and by the look in his eyes, he wasn't anywhere near satisfied. So Hans was going to fuck him. If not today then soon and for the rest of their time here, and there was nothing Rusty would do to stop it.

It was going to happen and it was going to be awful, and that meant he had to work on mentally surviving it. He couldn't let it change him. He already felt dirty and wrong and he was struggling to look at Danny like he would have before, and he suspected that was only going to get worse. What he had to do here was remind himself that none of those feelings were real. Convince himself that none of it mattered – because it didn't matter how he felt, not next to Danny – and just shove it all away. He'd always been good at suppressing shit he couldn't deal with. This was no different.

Calm. He could be calm and when Hans came back downstairs twenty minutes carrying a tray with two egg white omelettes, a jug of ice tea, and a large tub of ice cream.

As he set the tray down, Rusty kissed him prettily without being prompted, but his eyes were drawn to the ice cream. It looked cheap and cheerful and out of place.

"Just a little treat for after lunch," Hans smiled. "It's not chocolate, I'm afraid, but I'm sure we can make do." He paused fractionally and didn't even bother looking down at the tray. "Oh, how foolish of me. I have forgotten to bring any spoons or bowls."

"Careless," Rusty agreed dryly.

Hans smiled brightly. "Ah, well, never mind. I'm sure we'll think of something."

Of course, Hans did think of something. Rusty had never hated the taste of ice cream so much. But it didn't matter, because after lunch, Hans drew the sheet up from Danny's feet and legs and started checking reflexes and muscle movement, jabbing Danny's feet with pins to watch him react, and with each test, the crease in his forehead slowly smoothed out.

"This is very good indeed," he declared happily. "It appears your lover has retained a full range of involuntary movement. Now, that does not mean there is no damage at all, and likely he will struggle to gain full control for some time, if he ever fully regains it, but this is very good. You can be happy."

He was. In fact he smiled at Hans, bright and vivid and beautiful, like he had just heard the best news in the world. The prospect of Danny spending the rest of his life in some little dark room, just got further away. What else mattered?

* * *

Rusty awoke struggling to shake off the heaviness of sleep, certain that something, somehow, was very wrong. Sluggishly blinking past the headache, he looked round himself, trying to get his bearings, make sense of his surroundings. He was still in that basement, still slouched in the uncomfortable chair next to Danny's bed only...only...

Only now the sheet had been removed entirely leaving Danny exposed and naked and Hans was standing by the head of the bed, his pants pooled around his ankles, and one hand was tracing circles on Danny's chest, and the oxygen mask was lying abandoned on the bed and Hans was rubbing his cock over Danny's mouth, pressing it into Danny's lips.

With a scream, Rusty launched himself across the room, shoving Hans as hard as he could – away! Away from Danny – and he threw him up against the wall, ready to punch and keep punching until the man was reduced to a bloody smear.

"Look down," Hans choked out as Rusty drew his fist back and there was something in his voice...

He looked. There was a syringe in Hans' hand, the needle pressed against Rusty's inner thigh. He froze, carefully not moving a muscle.

"That's an extremely powerful muscle relaxant pointed straight at your femoral artery, tough boy," Hans told him, gradually recovering his poise. "I started carrying it when I realised just how much you wanted to hurt me. It is not the only means I have to deal with you but it is among the most enjoyable. All I have to do is press my thumb a very little and soon you will be completely unable to do anything except lie there and drool on yourself. You will be aware though. And I will be sure to prop you up to watch as I enjoy all the amenities your lover has to offer."

"No!" The strangled protest burst out of him. Oh, fuck, no. Not that. Never that.

"You do not like the sound of that?" Hans asked, a satisfied little smile playing around his lips. "I think it sounds rather fun. Your lover has a very nice body. His skin is delightfully warm and supple. It makes me long to sink my teeth into him."

"Don't touch Danny," Rusty said harshly. "I'll do anything you want, only _don't touch Danny._ "

"You were asleep," Hans explained beautifully. "I began to feel sexually aroused and I did not want to wake you. As I said, you need your rest."

Somehow, sometime soon, Rusty was going to find a way to kill him.

"You still need me," Hans reminded him quickly. "Unless you managed to get your training in neurosurgery while you were snoring?"

They still needed him. And even though he'd _violated_ Danny, even though he'd...Rusty was going to need to carry on letting him treat Danny and examine him. He took a deep breath, fighting for the pretence of calm. "You even look at him again any way I don't find appropriate, I am going to cut your balls off," he said levelly. "You don't need them to practice medicine."

Hans smiled, unaffected. "And what if I _don't_ touch Danny?" he murmured. "What will you give me if I promise that from now on, as far as Danny is concerned, I shall be the perfect professional?"

He hesitated, not because the question was difficult – he was already resigned to the answer, after all – but because he was searching Hans' face, trying to figure out if he could be trusted to keep his word. He thought maybe, yes. Hans would probably enjoy holding this bargain over Rusty's head. There were far too many 'maybes' and 'perhaps' in that. Although Hans had to know that if he _did_ go after Danny again, Rusty would not forgive a second time. Not that he was forgiving now. No forgiving and no forgetting. But still - "Anything," he promised levelly.

The smile slowly crept across Hans' face. Then why don't you lower your fists and I will lower my syringe and we will explore that together," he suggested.

Rusty backed off, knowing he had failed Danny in the worst possible way. His heart was still pounding against his chest. Oh, fuck, how had he let this happen? Why had he fallen asleep?...He caught his breath. Why _had_ he fallen asleep? His mouth was dry.  "Did you drug me?" he asked, involuntarily. He remembered eating the food Hans had prepared, and none of it had tasted off, but how could he be certain?

Hans laughed a little as he pulled his pants up. "Is that what you want to think?" he asked. "Is it so much easier to blame me, than to think that maybe you lost control of yourself and fell asleep, and Danny paid the price for it?"

That wasn't an answer. But then, why would he ever expect one?

Hans stared him down for a long moment before he slid the cap back on the syringe and then carefully turned away so Rusty couldn't see where he put it. Damn.

Not that it really mattered. He had agreed to this. He'd known it was coming, and he'd agreed to it, and now all there was to do was lie back and think of nothing. "So how do you want to do this?" he asked abruptly, and he gritted his teeth at Hans' enquiring eyebrow. "I mean, we've got the other bed over there, do you want me on my back or..." He trailed off as the Hans smiled knowingly.

"Ah, you are thinking of anal intercourse," he said cheerfully. "Now, that is a lovely offer and I am sure I would enjoy you immensely. But I'm afraid that is not what I have in mind for now."

Caught off guard, Rusty blinked at him stupidly. "Then what do you want?"

"I would like your pleasure," Hans said serenely.

Rusty stared. His mouth was dry. "W-what?" he asked, and he couldn't stand hearing his own voice stutter.

"I should like your pleasure," Hans repeated. "You were very keen last night to tell me that you wanted my penis. And yet I was disappointed to see that when I let you have it, you remained flaccid and unaroused. From now on, whenever you have my penis in your mouth, I expect to see you erect and masturbating."

Every thought in Rusty's head came to a crashing stop. All he could do was stare and try to make sense of the words. Hans wanted him to...he was going to have to...he _couldn't_.

"Of course, if you find this impossible to comply with," Hans went on, eyes gleaming, "I can always go back and see how accommodating Danny can be...?"

No. Not that. He'd said anything and he'd meant it. He'd just never imagined _this._ How could he even...

His eyes flickered over to Danny. Still lying exposed and oblivious.

He swallowed hard. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Let me get Danny cleaned up first. Then I'm all yours. All of me."

"Very well," Hans agreed with unexpected gentleness. "I will give you a few moments to take care of him."

Stiff-legged, he walked over to the bed. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but Danny looked less peaceful than before. He took a sponge and some hot water and carefully dabbed it over Danny's lips before replacing the oxygen mask. Then he gently washed Danny's chest – anywhere Hans had touched. "Sorry," he whispered helplessly. He'd let this happen. He should have been protecting Danny, but he'd fallen asleep and Danny had suffered for it.

"You might want to clean his hair," Hans called. "I am afraid I left a lot of mess there."

In silent horror, Rusty crept round to the other side of the bed and caught sight of the sticky clump of goo caked in Danny's hair.

"You were asleep a very long time," Hans said unrepentantly. "And his hair is lovely and soft."

Rusty heard the low keen of agony. He just didn't want to admit he was the one who'd made it.

He washed Danny's hair as best he could with what he had on hand. Not easy when he couldn't move Danny's head, and he didn't dare walk into the bathroom to fetch the shampoo. Even after he couldn't see it anymore, he could see where it – where _Hans –_ had been. ( _He wondered if either of them would ever come truly clean._ )

Hans started humming tunelessly somewhere behind him. Rusty closed his eyes. "I have to do this," he told Danny in a fierce whisper. "I'm sorry. I need to keep you safe." It wasn't enough. It wasn't anything like enough, not for what he was doing. He stooped and hastily planted a chaste kiss on Danny's forehead. "I'm _sorry,_ " he said again unsteadily before turning away and pointedly drawing the drapes around Danny's bed.

Hans didn't say a word.

Even though it seemed impossible, Rusty couldn't bear the thought that Danny might open his eyes and _see._ ( _And he couldn't look at Danny._ )

"All ready?" Hans asked rhetorically. "I can promise you, _I_ am."

Yeah, Rusty could see that. He walked back over to Hans. Every step was an impossible struggle.

"I think," Hans mused, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his chin. "I think I would like it if you took your shirt off again. And please, lower your trousers and your underwear. I want to see as much as possible."

Wordless, Rusty obeyed.

Hans sighed appreciatively. "You really are _very_ beautiful," he said. "I hope Danny tells you so often."

"Can we get this over with?" Rusty asked abruptly.

"No, no," Hans chided. "This is something to be _savoured._ Now. Get down on your knees and please enjoy yourself."

All his instincts were screaming at him to run or fight or do _anything_ but submit. _This is for Danny,_ he reminded himself. _Anything, remember?_

Still, he stayed on his knees a couple of moments too long, not quite able to bring himself to do what needed to be done.

"I am waiting," Hans reminded him patiently.

Rusty looked up at him. "I..." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He wasn't going to plead. Wasn't going to beg Hans not to make him do this. But his fingernails were biting deep into his palms, and he didn't know that he could physically _do_ this.

Hans looked down at him kindly. "I do not demand that you achieve orgasm," he said. "However, I expect you to reach erection. You can do that for me, can't you?"

He didn't have a choice.

This was a nightmare. Even though it disgusted him, he tried to concentrate on the taste and feeling of the cock in his mouth, ignoring the mechanical motion of his own hand like it wasn't attached to him, trying to pretend that he couldn't feel his dick twitch with interest. If he could just please Hans enough, if he could just make him come, then this would all be over. _Please._

Hans was staring down with a delighted little smile on his face. "Faster, please," he said. "And harder. You do not need to be afraid of breaking your penis you know."

His hand sped up. The warmth pooled in his groin. His mouth stayed busy. This was a nightmare.

"Reach up with your other hand and pinch your nipples for me, please," Hans requested breathlessly, after another few moments. "Pull on them. Oh, that's right. That's very good."

There were tears running down his cheeks. Desperately, he worked his lips and his tongue, horrorstruck to realise that his hand had automatically fallen into a familiar matching rhythm. This was a nightmare. This was _hell._

It seemed an eternity before Hans finally came, spilling into Rusty's mouth with a satisfied groan.

Rusty stumbled to his feet immediately, not even caring that Hans was watching as he dragged his pants up, forcing them over his erection like it didn't even exist. He was almost completely hard. It was obscene. It was so fucking _wrong._ ( _He was so fucking wrong._ ) He felt ashamed in a way he never had before in his life.

( _Danny. I'm so, so sorry. Please. Forgive me._ )

"Do you know," Hans said, with a little friendly laugh. "I do not know that I have ever seen a man achieve an erection so easily while sucking on another man's penis. I do believe that you secretly enjoy submitting like this."

He shook his head dumbly, not able to speak for a moment. No. No, he didn't. This wasn't him. He took a deep breath and willed away the taste in his mouth and his shame and he looked Hans straight in the eye. "Do you always make your prostitutes jerk off while they blow you?" he asked. "Must make it easier to pretend they're into you, huh." He smiled coldly and let the full weight of his contempt show in his eyes. "You disgust me," he said in a low voice. "You disgust everyone who sees you. If you weren't blackmailing me into it, I wouldn't let you lay so much as a finger on me. When was the last time someone touched you because they _wanted_ to? Do you even remember?"

For a moment, as rage darkened Hans' eyes, he thought he might be about to get slapped in the face. But then the anger slowly froze over and Hans smiled again. "Really, what does all this defiance get you, tough boy?" he scolded. "But, as long as we are exchanging truths, let me ask you this. You said you and your lover work together, is that correct? You are jolly thieves, stealing together and that is all very nice. But that suggests to me that you were friends first, yes? So, do you think your are star-crossed lovers, or do you think you are simply convenient for him? His friend, his partner, an easy set of holes at the end of the day, so he doesn't have to go looking for anyone else."

Rusty made himself laugh, promising that none of this _mattered._ "Danny loves me," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, perhaps," Hans nodded. "But we were talking about sex, not love. It is not the same, after all."

And that sounded so much like the doubts that whispered to him late at night, that he couldn't hide the flinch. "We're happy together," he insisted, and ignored the nagging thought that they _had_ been happy together.

Hans shrugged. "You are the easy option," he said matter-of-factly. "Are you really so certain that he will not leave you when someone else comes along?"

Oh, yes. It wasn't in Danny to be unfaithful. ( _That was where the real problem lay, after all._ ) But Hans shouldn't have truth, and he walked away, walked back to Danny and drew the drapes away. If he didn't look at Danny's face, he could pretend he didn't see the accusation.

After a few moments, he heard Hans leave. The adrenaline left and the shame came flooding back.

He sat on the floor by Danny's bed, his hand outstretched above his head, resting beside Danny's. "'m sorry," he said, small and low and miserable. "I'm sorry I let him hurt you. I'm sorry I...I... _enjoyed_ it. Oh, fuck, Danny, I'm _sorry."_

The sobs tore helplessly through him.

After a moment, he felt Danny's fingers twitch around his.

* * *

Danny was alone. He was running, or trying to run, trapped beneath a sea of dark fog and desperately looking for something, but he couldn't remember what. He needed to get out of here, where ever here was, because Rusty was out there somewhere, and Rusty was in pain and Rusty _needed_ him.

He ran. He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, please take a sec to let me know what you think. :)


	6. Do you want me to submit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this has taken a while....I've been ill, and Bioware have been taking over my life again. :)

Over the next few days, Danny slowly drifted closer to consciousness. So far there had been no point when Rusty would have been happy to say he was _aware,_ but he was restless now, not as still. It had to be a step in the right direction, but when Danny's face twisted – in fear or pain – Rusty had to wonder if keeping him completely comatose would have been the right thing to do.

Truth was he didn't know and had no way of finding out. When you don't trust your doctor and can't get a second opinion, options are sorta limited.

Hans did seem pleased with Danny's progress though. He diligently took a whole range of notes and measurements and nodded happily at them. Rusty constantly asked him for updates, naturally, but he didn't know how much he could believe. Danny did seem to be improving. Medically, Hans hadn't steered him wrong yet as far as he could tell. He had to cling to that.

Didn't mean he was content to sit back and do nothing. Careful examination left him certain that he _could_ open the door, but he wasn't going to be able to close it again without it being obvious he'd snuck out. He kinda got the feeling Hans wouldn't appreciate that. Not that it mattered right now, he wasn't planning on going to contact Bobby until closer to the time he was planning on getting Danny out of here...even if the thought of Bobby riding in like the cavalry made his heart leap. Still, if he was planning on breaking out of here at some point, he needed to have a good idea of Hans' schedule, because if he wasn't here, Danny would be alone, and Rusty had no idea how far he might have to go to find a phone. Even if there was one in the house, using it seemed potentially dangerous.

Took him a few attempts, but he found the perfect place to perch on the counter with Hans' stethoscope and listen through the walls to the floor above. All he really had was the hallway and, he thought, the kitchen. But he could hear the front door opening and closing, and after three or four days, he felt reasonably confident that Hans went out at ten every morning and didn't return till a bit after noon. Everything else seemed random, but that...that he hoped he could rely on.

Of course, it didn't do him any damned good with his present situation. Hans continued to disgust. Kisses, handjobs, blowjobs...his life had descended into an irregular routine of casual sex acts, and he had no way of saying no. And now, with each time he wrapped his mouth around Hans' cock, he was expected to paw at himself. It disgusted him. _He_ disgusted him. And every time he could picture the look in Danny's eyes and he felt like dying.

The desire to take a shower grew irresistible. In the dead of night, when he could be certain Hans was safely asleep upstairs, he'd stand beneath the scalding hot water and wish himself clean. If no other form of defiance was available to him, at least he must be making one hell of a dent in Hans' hot water supply.

Hans brought him more toiletries, an electric razor, fresh clothes...plain shirts,cheap pants and a selection of silk briefs, all just on what Hans would probably call the right side of too tight. He didn't want to wear them, but he didn't want to be stuck in the same filthy clothes either. Whatever he did, he felt dirty.

Often, especially when he heard Hans' footsteps on the stairs, he thought longingly of securing a weapon. There were sharp knives and strong drugs in here, and he'd be happy to use either on Hans. But not only did Hans keep them locked up, he kept the cases so ordered that Rusty had no doubt he'd be able to tell if something was missing at a glance, and that wouldn't end well at all. The locks were pickable though. If it came to it, he could arm himself. And, just in he didn't have time, he broke a plastic beaker and picked out the sharpest shard to hide away in his pocket. Unlikely it would make an effective weapon, but it made him feel just a fraction better.

And all that was nothing next to the long hours he spent at Danny's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him, still hoping that his voice got through. It didn't seem to make a difference to the restlessness, but Danny had always found it a comfort before so maybe somehow, somewhere...

He told old stories and jokes, dragged up memories from his childhood that he hadn't got around to sharing with Danny before, recited books he'd read once upon a time. He avoided anything overtly sentimental. Right now that would feel too much like saying goodbye.

And still Danny didn't open his eyes.

There was a small part of Rusty – the part that wasn't lonely and scared and screaming – which was almost glad of that. It was all too easy to imagine Danny opening his eyes to see him degrading himself, and the thing about them being together was that even if he could somehow convince Danny that he was a completely willing participant, it would still crush Danny.

The lie was still so much better than the truth.

"Well, we never actually said we were exclusive," he tried, looking straight at Danny's closed eyes. But his tongue stumbled over the words, and even to his own ears, in their secret language, it sounded like _Danny. Please. Make it stop._

He gritted his teeth. It wasn't important. It didn't _matter._ All that mattered was that Danny woke up. He could figure out how to hide everything from Danny when that happened.

"Come back to me," he whispered, as he had done a hundred times over the past week. "Please."

* * *

There was something keeping Danny trapped and he couldn't escape it. He was a prisoner in some sea of nothingness, not able to talk or move or _think,_ just a collection of flickering memories and flashes of awareness. In the distance, far above him, he could sense an immense wall of pain bearing down on him. He knew he had to break through it, but again and again he tried and shied away, the agony too massive to contemplate. Felt like nothing on earth, like fire burning away his bones.

From time to time he heard voices struggling through the fog. He couldn't make out the words, but sometimes he knew it was Rusty and he fought to break free, because Rusty needed him and there was something he needed to tell Rusty, something important if he could only remember what it was...

* * *

Rusty woke shaking and clammy with sweat from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember. Instinctively, he looked across to Danny, unconscious and unmoving in the other bed. Safe. At least for the moment. He'd opened his eyes a couple of times in the last day or two, but he hadn't seemed to see anything. Certainly not Rusty. Definitely not Hans.

Hans. With sudden spasm of fear, he checked his watch. Just before midnight. Hans had come down to check on Danny around ten, and he probably wouldn't be back until two. He still had a couple of hours before he'd have to...have to...

Shivering, he sat up, huddling back against the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped tight around his chest. He didn't have to remember the nightmare to know that it hadn't been so different from reality. Truthfully, he hadn't expected this to be so hard. Heh. He bared his teeth humourlessly. No pun intended.

He hadn't had to come yet, but it was only a matter of time. Hans continued to expect regular blow jobs, and every time he found ways of stretching the whole thing out until Rusty was near desperation. He knew it too. Hell, he _enjoyed_ it, and that knowing smile and the self-satisfied moan were as good as a cold shower. So far, self-control and self-disgust had kept him from plummeting over the edge, but that couldn't last forever. He was growing to hate his own body.

Thing was, the very idea of orgasm was becoming horror in his head. When Hans had first asked him to jerk off the very idea had been nightmarish and impossible. Unthinkable. Now that it was feeling inevitable, it was somehow so much worse. If it wasn't for Danny, he might just rather die.

But it was all for Danny. That was what he had to remember, except while he was...fuck. As long as his hand was around his dick, Danny was the last thing he should be remembering. He wanted to keep Danny as clean of this as possible.

And really, all Hans had to do was tell – _ask –_ him to jerk off to completion. Not like he'd be able to say no; the threat was clearly understood by both of them. But somehow, he wasn't going to do that. Self control and self disgust. That was what this was about and Hans was enjoying watching his control slip and his disgust grow. He hadn't said as much, but Hans wanted it to happen naturally.

And in the meantime, he was having fun. Each time after he'd come in Rusty's mouth and he looked down with that damnable smile at Rusty's dick, he asked "Are you sure you would not like to orgasm?"

He always said no, and then would come the little suggestion as to what they could do instead and gradually, gradually, step by step, Rusty was selling his soul. Oh, the suggestions started off if not innocuous then at least harmless;

" _I should like to give you a hickey._ "

" _I should like you to kiss my shoes."_

" _I should like to put my tongue in your ear._ "

He had acquiesced easily enough. Too easily, he admitted bitterly but all that had seemed so much easier than the alternative. And he'd always known things would escalate.

" _I need pictures of erect male genitalia for an article I am writing for a medical journal," Hans said as if it was the simplest thing on earth. "I should like to use yours. Do not worry, it shall be entirely anonymous. After all, I will not be photographing your face._ "

And Rusty had hesitated and hated, but in the end it had felt like just another price to pay, and he'd lain down and let Hans take his pictures from every angle imaginable, and by the time they were done he was all but flaccid anyway.

It was awful. And then the next time it was " _I should like to ejaculate on your face, and I would prefer it if you do not clean it off for the rest of the day."_ and that had been...but he'd borne it – for Danny, even if he couldn't even _look_ at Danny – and then after that it had been Hans toying wistfully with a couple of surgical clamps. _"I should like to attach these to your nipples."_

It had hurt like nothing else. The scream had been ripped from his throat, and he'd had to force his hands over his mouth to make it stop. His legs had been trembling...he hadn't been able to hold still...and Hans had been standing there, watching with obvious pleasure. "I _thought_ they'd be sensitive," he said with soft delight.

Twelve hours later and he was still bruised and bloody, and he'd had to leave his shirt hanging open to keep the material from rubbing against his chest. Left him uncomfortable though. Hans liked it too much.

At least the pain helped counter the arousal. The last time, he'd barely managed to get hard at all, and that was a blessing, because he hated the feeling, hated the way it didn't completely fade after Hans left, no matter what he did. It lingered, below the surface, ready to bubble up and tear him down all over again.

Two more hours. Oh, fuck.

He looked at Danny and tried to think of something to say. It was getting more difficult. Talking. Looking at Danny. Touching him. More and more, those feelings of filth and worthlessness threatened to overwhelm him, until it seemed like he didn't deserve to even be _near_ Danny, like just Rusty's presence was somehow contaminating everything good in the world.

( _Right now, Danny was_ all _that was good in the world._ )

But Danny didn't know that, and Danny wouldn't agree, and Danny needed the comfort...and besides, he scrubbed his hands raw with near boiling water and harsh soap after each assignation. If only he could scour his soul so easily.

A grimace of pain or discomfort passed over Danny's face and he shifted his head the bare few inches he could, struggling to move.

"Hey, hey," Rusty said softly, immediately leaning forwards and smoothing his hand across Danny's cheek. "You're safe, okay? But you need to lie still. 's okay. It's going to be okay."

The words were meaningless enough, but Danny turned his head back towards Rusty, and his eyelids flickered, and for a moment Rusty held his breath, hoping _hoping..._

But Danny's face went slack and, disappointed, Rusty sat back.

What would he do if Hans was lying? What would he do if the operation hadn't been a success? It wasn't the first time the thought had tormented him. He supposed in the short term his plans wouldn't change too much. It would still be about getting away from Hans and getting back state side. Just that after that, he'd need to find a proper hospital and get Danny the medical attention he should have had all along. That was what he should have done in the first place. He should have found some way of getting them back home the night Danny was shot. Except Danny had been bleeding, and he'd known he should be minimising movement, and people had been looking for them and the local option had seemed so much safer. Safer. Yeah. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Besides. He really didn't know that Hans was lying to him. He'd seen Danny's feet move for himself. But he didn't know for sure what that meant, and Danny wasn't waking up.

He sighed. How long should he give it before deciding?

Reaching out, he brushed the hair away from Danny's forehead. It was cold and clammy. "You ever wonder where we'd be if we'd never met?" he asked softly. "Anywhere but here, I guess." He rubbed his hand across his lips. "Can't imagine either of us would have gone legit. Guess I'd be working the con somewhere. Keeping moving. Keeping everything nice and superficial, the way I always used to. And without you, everything would be less..." He shrugged. "Without you, everything would be less." Glancing at his watch, he bit his lip. Time was slipping away. "Whatever happens with Hans, it doesn't mean anything, okay? I know how much you'd hate what I'm doing, but it's not the end of the world. I can deal with it. Really, Danny."

He didn't know when that had started to sound so much like a lie. Funny. He'd said he wasn't afraid. Keeping his eyes fixed on Danny, and not even glancing at the door and the stairs, he clenched his fists tight and waited.

* * *

The sun was pouring in from the skylight above him, almost blinding him when he woke up. He didn't know how long he'd slept but he felt tired and heavy and his mind was filled with fog. He was alone, so Rusty must already be up, and he smiled when he heard voices coming from somewhere else in the hotel room. The TV was on. "Rusty," he called, figuring he'd see if there was an espresso machine anywhere in this place. His voice sounded strange and far away.

Footsteps echoed through his head, and then Rusty was standing over him, looking down at him with a strange expression on his face. There was cream around his mouth and Danny grinned. "Ice cream for breakfast?" he slurred giddily.

Rusty said something in some language he didn't understand, and on some level Danny knew he should be questioning that, but before he could his attention was caught by something more interesting - Rusty's shirt was open to the waist, and Rusty's pants were undone and Danny could see a tantalising glimpse of a hard silk-covered bulge. Now that sounded even better than coffee. "'s that for me?" he asked, reaching out vaguely, but somehow Rusty was just too far away, and even then, he took a teasing step to the side. "Stop moving," he complained grumpily. "Want you." The room was spinning and the man on the TV was laughing and there was a look in Rusty's eyes that he didn't understand...

He closed his eyes and slept again.

* * *

His hands were shaking. He leaned heavily on the sink in the bathroom. The cold water was running and he'd splashed it – _everywhere –_ and it wasn't enough. Arousal and disgust were both still rushing through his veins, and he wasn't even sure he could tell them apart any more. It was...it was _wrong._ Everything was wrong.

Unwillingly, he raised his head and met his reflection's gaze in the mirror. Oh, fuck. The shudder rippled through him as the revulsion grew to a crescendo in his head. His face was flushed and red. His eyes were glassy. His lips, swollen and kissbruised. His hair was damp and there was a sheen across his forehead. Even his chest was rising and falling in time with quick, shallow breaths. Panting.

He looked like a cheap, desperate whore. No wonder Danny had thought he wanted it.

For a moment, he wanted to smash his hands through the mirror, to destroy everything it showed him, to punch and punch, and rake through the broken glass until he was cleansed in blood and pain. But that was selfishness. Danny needed him whole and sane.

He laughed out loud, his voice cracking awfully. Danny _wanted_ him.

It hadn't meant anything, no matter what Hans said. So the first time Danny properly woke up, he looked at Rusty and wanted to pick right up where Hans left off. But Danny had been confused. Hallucinating, even. He hadn't understood what was happening, and that didn't mean that Rusty was just a collection of holes to him. But that was what Hans said, after Danny had passed out again, and for some reason, the words clung to him.

( _They weren't supposed to be like that._ )

Danny hadn't woken up again in the hours since then. Rusty had sat beside him, talking to him with soft urgency, but even though Danny's eyes had fluttered opened a couple of times, there'd been no sign that he'd been aware of anything around him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to take Danny's hand. He knew he should, but right now, Danny's touch made him feel dirty.

Though truthfully, right now everything made him feel dirty. He wanted to think that he'd spent the day by Danny's bed, but truthfully, he'd spent more of it on his knees in front of Hans. Hans had been downstairs three times in less than two hours, looking for a blowjob each time. And each time it had taken a little longer and he hadn't let Rusty stop jerking off, and he was getting frantic. It was getting harder and harder to hold himself back, and Hans had just smiled at him the last time and said "I will see you in half an hour, tough boy."

Fuck, a man of his age and build? Hans had to be taking Viagra or some shit like that. He'd said so too, and yes, okay, that had been unwise because he'd watched that smile vanish and he'd _known_ Hans was thinking up some new hell for him.

Not that he was so sure there could be anything worse than this. Oh, fuck, please, he didn't want to come. Not in front of Hans. And it had crossed his mind that the sensible thing here would be take matters into his own hands, so to speak. To deal with the problem while Hans wasn't there, so that the next time he wouldn't be so close to the edge. Trouble was, just the thought of touching himself made him feel sick now. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Too damn weak. Silently, he walked back through and stood by Danny's bed, and sure enough, he heard the door open five minutes before they'd reached the half hour mark. He couldn't help the flinch at the footsteps on the stairs.

Hans at least had the courtesy to check Danny over before they got down to business, or pleasure, or whatever Hans thought this was. Rusty's body responded frighteningly quickly, already swimming in whatever fucked-up chemicals or hormones made him think he _liked_ this. He wasn't going to last, and he knew it. He tried, as he always did, to ease off, to just pretend to touch, or to touch too roughly, but Hans always spotted it and chided him with all the threat implied, until he started stroking properly. He tried every trick he knew with his lips and tongue, to make this as fast as possible, but Hans was barely starting to harden in his mouth, while he was...he was...

The corners of his eyes were prickling. It was all he could do to keep his hips still. Masturbation as a form of torture, who'd have thought?

It lasted an eternity, and he was long past rational thought when Hans finally came in his mouth with a long, satisfied groan. Rusty tore his hand away immediately, swallowing thankfully. It was over. It was _over,_ but his legs were trembling and even the cool air against his groin left him longing to thrust forwards, desperate for some friction, some release. He couldn't stand up. He didn't dare even move.

"Well, look at you," Hans said softly. "That does look _very_ uncomfortable." His voice was sweet and mocking. "Are you sure you do not wish to orgasm?"

He shook his hand, speechless.

"Are you sure?" Hans pressed. "I imagine it would feel very satisfying to feel your hand wrapped around your penis right now. Or perhaps you need something more? The warm, wet feeling of your lover's lips, perhaps?"

"No!" he said tersely, hating the way his voice sounded. Breathy. High pitched. Not in control.

"You are _very_ hard," Hans commented. "You know, you are quite right about me needing a little chemical assistance. I find I need to work a little harder for my pleasure these days. But as long as you are down here, so easy and accommodating, it is a constant temptation. And do you know, thanks to those little pills, I do believe that if you give me oh, ten minutes or so, I will have enough energy for a further session at least."

Ten minutes. And that wouldn't be... _he_ wouldn't be...

"If you truly do not wish to orgasm, you are welcome to go and take a cold shower," Hans offered solicitously. "Do not worry. I will watch Danny for you."

And _that_ was never gonna happen. "I'll be fine," he ground out. He closed his mouth tight and tried to set his jaw, but his heart was racing and he felt like he wasn't getting enough air. He needed to stand up. To pull his pants back on and cover himself. Try to claw back some control and dignity, but both were beyond his reach right now and moving still seemed unthinkable.

Hans laughed and leaned past him to the drawers behind, casually pressing his leg achingly close to Rusty's groin. Just a little pressure, a little friction and...he dug his fingernails deeper into his palms. "You know," Hans said conversationally. "I have already confessed I am using the benefits of modern medicine to assist me. It seems only fair to offer you the same."

He blinked dumbly up at Hans, his mind struggling to keep up. "Yeah, I've never had any problems getting it up," he said.

"I can see that," Hans agreed cruelly. "But no. That was not what I had in mind. My sin may be self indulgence but you seem to have your heart...and other parts...set on self denial. I believe I could help with that."

He stepped away at last and Rusty let himself relax a little and, with a wild stab of effort, managed to scramble up, his back against the counter.

But Hans was holding up a sharp syringe, his eyes shining. "Novocaine," he declared joyfully. "A very useful local anaesthetic. With this, you could tug away to your heart's content and never feel a thing. That sounds good, doesn't it?"

It did sound good. He didn't want to feel this anymore. Hell, he didn't want to feel anything ever again, but...but...

"Please let me inject this into your penis," Hans said, not even trying to hide the unholy eagerness from his voice.

Hans was going to enjoy this. He was giving Hans everything he wanted, and yet he knew he didn't have the strength to say no. "Yes," he said, almost inaudibly. He didn't look round at Danny. He tried to pretend that Danny was somewhere far away, somewhere safe, not sleeping mere feet away while Rusty sold his soul.

"That's a good boy," Hans said with tender excitement. "Now, just jump up and sit on the couch there."

Stiff-legged, he walked across the room – past Danny! - and did as he was told.

Hans followed and bent over him, licking his lips eagerly. "I should like you to watch this. Do not look away."

He hadn't been planning on it. He'd agreed to this, and now he was going to play it off like it didn't even bother him. But when he watched – felt – the needle stabbing deep into his already over-sensitive flesh, he could feel the bile rising in his throat, and he bit so hard into his tongue that he tasted blood. Oh, _fuck._

"A couple more, I think," Hans said, his voice hoarse with excitement. "We want to make sure you're properly numbed, don't we?"

They did. Or he did. So he didn't protest when Hans injected him another three times.

"It will take a few minutes to work," Hans said and he stood and they both watched him grow soft. "That should be it," Hans said at last, when it seemed like he just couldn't wait any longer. Swiftly, he leaned down and raked his fingernails hard up Rusty's dick, leaving an angry red mark in his path. Rusty didn't feel a thing. He didn't feel _anything._

Hans laughed out loud at the look on his face, and amused himself for a few moments, slapping playfully at Rusty's penis.

Rusty let him. It didn't matter. And he tried to ignore the gap in the curtains that would give him a perfect view of Danny's face, if he looked.

Eventually, Hans grew bored of his game and stopped, regarding him benevolently. "After all that excitement, I definitely feel ready for another round. I should thank you, tough boy. You really are a source of endless amusement. And you make me feel so good."

He tried his best to hide the shudder.

Afterwards, as he stood and fastened his pants, trying to ignore how strange he felt, Hans walked back over to the counter and started searching through the drawers again. "Ah!" he exclaimed happily. "Here." He threw something across the room and Rusty caught it automatically.

He looked down. A pack of incontinence pads.

"You will probably wish to wear one of those for the rest of the day," Hans explained delicately, his lips twitching. "In order to avoid any little accidents."

Face flaming, he dropped the pads like they were on fire. When he managed to collect himself enough to look back up, Hans was standing right by Danny's bed, and before Rusty could say anything he ducked and spoke into Danny's ear in a loud stage whisper. "I am afraid you should know that your lover needs his penis numbed in order to keep from humping my leg like a bitch in heat."

"Don't talk to him!" Rusty said furiously. "We had a deal." He moved threateningly towards Hans, and as Hans backed away, he placed himself in front of the bed.

Hans held up his hands mockingly. "I did not touch him," he pointed out. "If you are going to prevent me from speaking to my patient, that could cause us problems. Besides, he cannot hear me. And do you not think he deserves to know?"

Rusty was about to snap that if Danny found out about _this_ then Hans would be a dead man walking, but he caught himself in time. If Hans thought Danny was a danger to him, he might quietly dispose of him. Fuck, had Hans managed to numb his brain as well? He dropped his head and affected an expression of guilt and shame and self disgust instead. ( _Not exactly a hard reach._ ) "Please," he said quietly. "Please, don't tell him. This would crush him."

"Very well," Hans said benevolently. "I will stay quiet for my patient's sake. Now, wash your mouth out and come kiss me goodbye. I shall not be back till supper time. We are having baked fish tonight. I do hope you like it."

When Hans was finally gone and Rusty was as sure as he could be that he wouldn't be coming back immediately, he relaxed enough to move away from his protective stance in front of the bed. He didn't spare Danny a glance. He tried not to, immediately after. He supposed it would be different if Danny was awake and healthy. He'd be seeking comfort. ( _He just wasn't so sure he_ deserved _it anymore.)_

Instead, he vanished into the bathroom and cleaned himself up as best he could. The numbness had spread down his thighs and round his hips. His hands were clumsy too, but he thought that was probably unrelated.

With a disgusted grimace, he put the pad on. It was less humiliating than the alternative, after all. And that was what his life had been reduced to. Choosing the least of humiliations.

This time he carefully managed to avoid his reflection, but he couldn't keep from looking at Danny when he finally walked back out. Even though Danny's eyes were closed, even though Danny had no idea, he couldn't help but see himself through Danny's eyes. And every time he did, he looked _less._

"What he said," he began, as the silence grew unbearable. "It wasn't true. You should know that." He twisted his hands together awkwardly, willing himself to reach out and take Danny's hand. He couldn't do it. Fuck, he was useless. "Might not seem it lately, but I have more self control than that," he said grimly. "I'd have castrated myself first." Dimly, he wondered if that was an option here. But that was just selfishness, like his desire to smash up the bathroom. It would leave him weak and vulnerable, unable to look after Danny. And if – _when_ \- Danny got well again, he wouldn't be able to hide that from Danny forever. ( _He shivered, remembering the hungry look in Danny's eyes, Danny reaching out to him. Sooner or later, Danny was going to want him._ )

"Would you mind," he said abruptly. "If I never blew you again?"

Instantly he pictured the grief and understanding in Danny's eyes at the question, and he waved id aside impatiently.

"I know you would _say_ you didn't mind, and I know you wouldn't blame me...but would you _mind?_ " He brushed his fingers across his lips and stopped immediately disgusted at the sensation. "'s not like it wouldn't be understandable if you did," he added off-handedly. "You know, I read somewhere that sex problems are a factor in forty percent of break-ups. You can say that it doesn't matter, but eventually...?" He shrugged. "It does. Sex might not be the be all and end all, but it's not nothing either. People get ground down."

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing tiredly at this forehead. The awful numbness in his groin sickened him with each little movement.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said irritably. "What he did."

In his head, Danny's eyes were horrified and heartsick and more than a little reproachful.

"What I let him – _asked_ him to do," he corrected himself bitterly. "It's better than the alternative."

Danny-in-his-head wasn't convinced. He was giving Hans everything he wanted. Submitting to him in a way that disgusted both of them.

"What, you think me spilling over the floor would be any fucking better?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "I can't do that, Danny. I can't...but I will." He raised his chin and looked straight at Danny. "There _is_ no line. There is nothing I would not let him do to me if I thought it would help you," he promised Danny fiercely. "Nothing." That was what he had to remember. No matter how it felt, it was worth it.

He sat for a moment, breathing hard, trying to get past the ache in his chest. He hated feeling this powerless, and memory suddenly sparked. "D' you remember?" he said abruptly. "That night in Austin, after the Kennedy job? Me and Phil had been teasing you all week about how you get out of the heavy lifting. That night you kissed me and pushed me down onto the bed and pulled out the handcuffs we'd got from that detective and cuffed me to the headboard, and you said -

\- " _Tonight_ you're _going to lie back and_ I'm _going to do all the hard work." Danny's eyes were dark and intense._

_He grinned and obligingly lifted his head so Danny could slide the pillow into place. "You think I'm hard work?"_

" _Definitely worth it," Danny assured him fervently, pressing kisses down his chest..._

_...And then later, after he came for the thirdfourth time, lost in incoherent pleasure, Danny looked down at him, mouth curved in amusement. "I love making you lose control like that," he said, voice smouldering, and he pushed forwards again and -_

He shook off the memory with difficulty, shuddering at the sensememory dancing across his skin. He looked at Danny in horror. "Is that...?"

No. He shook his head. No, he was letting how he felt now colour the past. He'd enjoyed that. He'd _wanted_ that. And if he hadn't, if he'd been unsure, even for a second, even if he hadn't said a word - "You'd have stopped," he said with certainty. "You'd have stopped if I didn't want to."

And still that didn't answer everything. "But is that what you want?" he asked, soft and troubled. "Deep down. Do you _want_ me to submit to you, Danny?"

Danny didn't answer. Not even in his head. And maybe that was because the question didn't deserve it. Because he knew it would never even have occurred to him before. Now, he remembered the handcuffs, and he remembered choosing to swallow, and he remembered that Danny was almost always on top, and he wondered if maybe they were both missing something.

Having someone else inside him had never felt like submission to him. Giving blowjobs, being penetrated...it hadn't made him feel like he was any less than any partner he'd ever had. It was about mutual pleasure, simple as that. But that was him, and he'd had time and experience to figure these things out. Danny...up until now, Danny had been strictly heterosexual and all he had was this one relationship and everything society said. Was he really so sure how things looked through Danny's eyes? Danny was a natural leader, used to being in control, and in their working relationship they'd always been equals. Maybe – unconsciously, of course unconsciously – Danny wanted to exert a little dominance in their personal relationship.

( _"His friend, his partner, an easy set of holes at the end of the day," Hans murmured in his head, and he shuddered._ )

Finally, he reached out and took Danny's hand, only hesitating very slightly. "Sorry," he said, his voice cracking and he meant for everything, everything.

"Rus'."

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Danny's eyes were open and he looked around for a long moment before finally his gaze settled on Rusty. "Rus'," he whispered again, and he almost seemed to smile.

Then he opened his mouth and screamed.


	7. Utterly Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay, this chapter has taken a while and is half as long as it was originally going to be. For various reasons have split it, so the next chapter should be done, except there's a bit that doesn't work. *frowns* If me and InSilva ever figure out how to make it work, will be posted soon.
> 
> A/N2: And directly relevant to the above...thanks, as ever, go to the wonderful InSilva for more things than I can count. Which, as she will helpfully inform you, is not many.

Pain. The pain was living through him, some monstrous being who had taken possession of his body and was slowly, agonisingly, consuming him. It rushed over him, _through_ him, like red hot needles being stabbed clean through his bones, leaving molten lava in their wake, and every time he tried to get on top of it, every time he thought maybe he could manage it, it came on worse than ever. There was no rest. No breathing space. He couldn't move, speak, think, because the pain was always there, draining him.

He didn't know where he was but Rusty was there and time and time again he met Rusty's eyes, pleading, begging for the pain to stop, and still it didn't. And he was dimly aware of Rusty's hand holding his, dimly aware of Rusty's voice over the soaring agony and he struggled to cling to the comfort, struggled to tell himself that Rusty was there, that they could bear this together, but the pain was too much and he was sorry, sorry...

He was dying. Or this was hell.

* * *

People always said be careful what you wish for. Now Rusty understood how right they were. He'd wished Danny would wake up because he was frightened and lonely. Yeah. Selfish. Because now Danny was awake and trapped in unendurable agony and Rusty was helpless.

It had been thirty six hours. Rusty wasn't sure just how much more Danny could take. His heart rate and his blood pressure were both way up. He'd barely had a moment's rest in all that time and the painkillers Hans gave him only seemed to take the edge off, and that only for a couple of hours. Rusty begged him for something stronger, promised him anything and everything but Hans just shrugged and said he didn't have anything. And Danny screamed.

How much pain could a person realistically take? Danny was the strongest person Rusty knew, and still he was afraid for his sanity. He tried again and again to get something more out of Hans, tried to trade away whatever he had left, but Hans' attentions had been perfunctory of late, and Rusty wasn't sure why. There'd been no new games and that should be a relief, but his body was the only currency they had right now, and if Hans wasn't buying, they were in trouble. Could be that he found the sound of screams he wasn't responsible for a turn off. Or it could be that he'd simply grown tired of Rusty. His fingernails bit deep into his palm. No one had ever grown tired of him before. He needed to find a way to recapture Hans' attention, because Danny couldn't go on like this.

His desperation made him reckless. That morning he'd grabbed Hans' arm, the sound of Danny's whimpering drowning out all rational thought. "You need to help him," he'd said. "I'll do anything you want, but you need to take the pain away."

Hans had just looked at him coldly. "I do not take your orders, tough boy," he'd said softly. "You have grown too complacent here." And as if to prove it, he'd gone out at his usual time and come back slightly later, but he hadn't come down to the basement. He'd left them alone. He'd left Danny in agony.

Danny's eyes were dark and clouded with agony. "Rus'," he said, his voice cracked and rough.

"Shhhh," Rusty gently soothed, stroking his thumb down Danny's cheek. "Just rest, okay? Don't try and speak."

Danny shook his head the fraction that the spinal collar allowed him and spoke with unbearable effort. "No. Need to. There are...there are things. Need said."

"It can wait till later," he tried desperately. "Right now, you need to rest."

A ghost of a smile graced Danny's face before dissolving beneath the pain. "Don't think there's gon' be a later, Rus'."

No. Oh, fuck no. Not this. "You're not dying," he said firmly. "I know it hurts. I know..." He choked. "You're not dying." It was a plea.

Danny raised his hand a few inches, gasping with the effort and the pain. "Listen. Please. I love you. And I'm in love with you. I know you don't believe me, but these past six months...they've been everything I ever wanted. _You_ are everything I ever wanted."

"You're not dying," he said, helpless and numb.

But Danny carried on talking. "I know you. You're going to blame yourself. You're going to run away, or you're going to do something stupid. And I'm asking you; don't. Promise me you'll live?"

"I promise you're not dying," he said unsteadily.

"Promise me." Danny's eyes were clear and they were fixed directly on Rusty's.

He didn't...he couldn't...He wanted to run _now,_ he wanted to hide, to bury himself someplace far away, and if Danny didn't need him... "I'll try," he said, knowing that the promise was beyond him.

But the frantic determination faded from Danny's eyes, and he dropped his hand with a sigh that turned into a choking moan of agony. "I'm sorry," he said breathlessly, his face crumpling back into pain beyond reason. "It hurts. It hurts so much."

"It's going to be okay," he whispered. "The doctor will be here with more painkillers soon. This will pass. You need to hold on just a little longer. And I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

There was fog in Danny's eyes now as he looked up at him. "I love you," he said intently, for all the world as if their last conversation hadn't happened.

Rusty tasted blood in his mouth. "You're not dying," he said again, but those weren't the words that Danny was waiting for. Those weren't the words that Danny wanted – needed – to hear. Alright. In desperation, his fingers digging deep into his palms, he stripped away the confusion of feelings inside him. All the doubts and uncertainty and disgust, gone, at least for now. He focused on how he'd felt before – not just before all this, before six months ago. This was Danny who he would do anything for. This was Danny who he was doing _everything_ for. "I love you too," he said in an agony of honesty.

Danny's eyes closed, the faintest of smiles upon his face, but his fist was still wrapped tightly in the bedsheet, convulsed in pain. With barely a hesitation, Rusty took his hand and the pain when Danny gripped him far too hard was so much less than he deserved.

He had to put on a mask and play a part to tell his critically injured boyfriend he loved him. That had to be a sign that there was something fundamentally wrong with him.

Boyfriend. What an inadequate word to describe Danny. He wondered if they'd somehow made themselves less when they started having sex.

A soft cry escaped Danny. Not quite a scream, but he knew that was only a matter of time. The pain was too much. He couldn't stand it anymore. _They_ couldn't stand it. Danny was hours overdue for his painkillers, and he couldn't be certain when Hans was coming back. He couldn't just sit back and watch anymore; he had to do something.

Grimly, he leapt to his feet and crossed to the cabinet where Hans kept the drugs. Like he'd figured earlier, the lock was easy. Barely gave him a moment's pause. And inside...Alright. He'd watched Hans do this often enough before. All he had to do was copy him precisely. He took out the correct vial and a syringe and carefully drew up 10ccs just like Hans always did, tapping the syringe to move the air bubbles to the top and then carefully squirting them out. It was tempting to give Danny more, tempting to believe that would help with the pain. But he just didn't know enough, and that made it too much of a risk.

He walked over to Danny and took careful hold of the IV line the way Hans always did. "Sorry," he whispered, but Danny's face was a mask of pain and he was too far gone to hear him. "It'll be better soon."

There was a sudden loud bang as the door was flung violently open and he turned quickly to see Hans furiously striding down towards the stairs. "Put that down," he spat, his face red with anger. "Du dumme schlampe, what do you think you're doing?"

He stood his ground, chin raised. "You didn't come downstairs," he said. "Danny is overdue for his medication. He's in pain."

"And so you thought you would take matters into your own hands?" Hans demanded, walking right up to him and standing far too close to him for comfort. It was all he could do to stand his ground. "I know you are a thief, but I have given you shelter, I have fed you and slaved myself to save your boyfriend's life, and still you break into my private possessions and steal from me. This is not the way to repay me."

Rusty stared at him incredulously. "You're being paid for that already," he pointed out. "And the deal is you give Danny the medical treatment he needs, and that includes being there to give him medicine when he needs it."

"You do not dictate terms, schwanzlutscher ," Hans said, practically crooning the insult as he scratched his thumb down Rusty's cheek. "Do you know what your problem is? You need to be in control all the time. You try your best to make everyone dance to your tune. I think that Danny must work very hard to keep you in your place. And still, you have him wrapped around your little finger, and now you are trying to do the same to me. You ask me to get your Danny stronger drugs, and I run out to do so." He held up a paper pharmacy bag theatrically. "And I come home to find you stealing from me. You think that you are in control here. It would be a fitting punishment if I simply threw these drugs away."

"No!" He couldn't let that happen. "No, Danny needs those. You want to punish me, fine. But Danny is - "

" - there you go again, dictating terms," Hans interrupted. "I think I must teach you who is in control here. I have been indulging you too much, I think. You have grown confused. I should like you to learn your place." He smiled jovially. "No doubt Danny will thank me for this."

Yeah, Rusty doubted it. Whatever Hans had planned, he knew Danny wouldn't approve. Unwillingly, he glanced back at Danny and it was an awful relief to see that Danny wasn't following their conversation, and it was a horror to see again the agony twisted across his face. " _Please,_ " he said hoarsely. "Danny needs those painkillers."

Hans pursed his lips and looked at him for a long moment before nodding. "Go and stand against the wall over there please. Place your hands flat against the wall and do not move them. I shall attend to Danny and then...then I shall attend to you."

His hesitation was barely noticeable as he debated whether to obey or not. Whether to trust that Hans would help Danny. But he sounded sincere, and he seemed to have the drugs... He stood against the wall. And waited.

Whistling tunelessly, Hans drew up the drugs. "I have slow release morphine for you here, along with stronger stuff for breakthrough pain," he said soothingly to Danny. "You are going to be fine now. Just a couple of moments longer and the pain will be under control."

"Rusty..." Danny rasped.

Rusty made to step forwards and stopped as Hans glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. "Also under control," he said with a small laugh.

Right. He had to stand here. Had to keep his hands still so he could keep Hans sweet. Obedience for morphine. Should be an easy deal. Especially when he saw the moment that Danny shuddered and relaxed, going limp as the pain drained out of him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Rusty..." Hans mused slowly. "That is your name, then?" He smiled toothily. "I shall have to remember that."

Rusty wished he wouldn't.

"So, now. Danny is settled and resting comfortably," Hans went on, anger still underlining his voice. He was angry, and there was something Rusty should be thinking about there...something that he'd seen when Hans flung the door open? But his eyes were fixed on Hans and the dread was clogging up his throat and he didn't have time to think. "It is time that we attended to our earlier discussion." He walked slowly over to Rusty and kissed him thoroughly. "Please," he said. "Keep your hands against the wall and your eyes fixed on Danny. I am going to show you how little control you really have." He slid his hand across Rusty's groin and very gently and very insistently started rubbing.

"No!" Rusty said, before he could help himself.

Hans smiled. "Yes," he crooned. "Keep looking at Danny, please. He is all drugged up and defenceless, remember. Helpless. I want that to be what you see as you grow erect beneath my hand."

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

His world narrowed to the sight of Danny's face and the feeling of Hans' fingers purposefully sliding over his pants, rubbing into the silk below. He felt sick. He felt like screaming. He felt _wrong_ in every way imaginable.

"You see?" Hans murmured. "I do not even need to grasp your bare flesh to bring you to arousal. How little control you really have."

His eyes were fixed on Danny's face. Danny looked peaceful. Almost innocent. Clean of all of this.

The first gasp he couldn't quite suppress told him he was lower than dirt. He could feel Hans' breath hot on his neck. As he was watching Danny, so Hans was watching him, greedy eyes fixed on his face, plundering every second of helpless reaction.

He couldn't hide. Not with Danny right there. He tried...he tried every trick he knew to hide himself away, but all the time he knew if he shut his eyes a second too long, Danny would suffer. He could endure. He could. He... The heat was building in the pit of his stomach. He could feel his legs trembling.

"Danny is very handsome," Hans murmured directly in his ear. "Does he enjoy seeing you like this? Does he like to take you apart."

"Uhnnn." All his protests, all his outrage somehow dissolved into a low, awful moan.

Hans laughed and _squeezed_ and Rusty felt his hips buck forwards helplessly, felt the heat rushing through him, and he wanted to die, he wanted, oh, fuck, please, Danny, no...

Afterwards his legs wouldn't hold his weight and he slid, boneless, to the ground, barely having the presence of mind to leave his hands against the wall. The wet patch on the front of his pants was large and -

" - shameful," Hans agreed breathily. There was the sound of a zip and then flesh slapping against flesh. Rusty didn't look round. Danny looked so much further away than he ever had before. "And see, now, you have ejaculated in your underwear, like a horny little boy. Do you understand now that you have no control here? You are powerless."

He felt nothing. And he kept his eyes on Danny as Hans came all over his face.

"You look utterly ruined," he said dreamily as he grabbed a chunk of Rusty's hair and wiped himself clean.

He was. Danny, he was.

"Are you listening to me?" Hans demanded, reaching down and cupping his cheek, turning his face away from Danny. "The morphine I gave Danny will tide him over for twelve hours or so. I shall not be back until late. I have a social engagement. Farewell for now."

He stayed where he was as Hans walked up the stairs. Then he drew his knees up to his chest and slipped sideways to the ground.

* * *

 

_Rusty walked into the upper bar of the Lux Hydro. This was familiar. He'd done this before. Danny would be sitting in a booth at the far side, beneath the mirror, waiting for him. Relief and need welled up in his chest. Danny would be there, and he'd look up at Rusty and smile the way he had before. That smile that lit up the room and made the world a better place, and if he just saw that then he'd know that everything was alright again. He'd know_ they _were alright._

_He tried not to run. Tried to walk like everything was normal. And when he turned the corner, Danny was sitting in the right booth, but he didn't look round at Rusty and he certainly didn't smile at him. He was too busy kissing the gorgeous woman he was with._

_For a long moment he just stood and stared. And he knew he hadn't made a sound, but eventually Danny looked round at him. "Oh," he said, sounding entirely unrepentant. "Rusty."_

" _Danny," he said numbly. The woman leaned back. Her face was in shadows and he couldn't really focus on her. "What's - "_

" _\- you know what's going on," Danny told him gently._

_He nodded jerkily. Yes, After all, it was obvious._

_Danny sighed and took the woman's hand. "You know I've always liked brunettes," he stated._

_Not blonds. Not men. Not_ him. _Danny had a type. Why hadn't he remembered that? Why had he thought it didn't matter?_

" _And I don't date whores," Danny added, off-handed and unapologetic._

_It hurt. It felt like Danny had just stabbed him in the heart. But he couldn't even argue with that._

" _Come on, Rus', don't be like that," Danny grimaced. "I can marry her. I can settle down, have something normal and wonderful to go home to. Something to protect and take care of. You must have known we weren't going anywhere. I mean, look at you."_

_His hands were flat against the wall. He could feel the awful wet spot at the front of his pants, and Hans was still standing there, still stroking at him._

" _You disgust me," Danny said with feeling, and there was contempt in his eyes and shame on Rusty's behalf, and he wanted to turn his head away, wanted to hide, but he needed to keep his eyes fixed on Danny's face, or else Hans would stop the morphine and Danny_ needed _that._

_The woman leaned forwards and touched Danny's arm and said something quietly._

_Danny smiled at her. That smile that lit up the room and made the world a better place. And he stood and took her hand and he was going to take her to the penthouse with the private pool, just like Rusty had taken Danny before, and he knew how that was going to end, and he couldn't bear it._

_As if in answer to his agony, Danny turned to him just before he walked away. "Oh, yes," he said kindly. "Here you go. I this this should cover our time together." He pulled twenty dollars out of his wallet and tucked it inside Rusty's jacket pocket. Then he walked away as Rusty stared after him, lost and desolate, and Hans was laughing and he wasn't letting up, and Danny was gone, Danny had left him, and he couldn't even follow because he needed to stay, needed to save Danny but Danny was_ leaving _him._

He woke up shaking and he couldn't stop the tears. He'd never felt so alone.


	8. Better a whore than a victim

He had heard Rusty crying, he knew he had, but when he'd tried to sit up and go to him he'd found he couldn't move. He was tied to the bed, somehow and he couldn't so much as raise his hand. His body felt fuzzy and hot and wrong. He wasn't in pain – not exactly – but he could remember agony, and he could feel it somewhere beneath the haze, immense and lingering. Still, he couldn't remember what had happened, but he knew how it had felt and his mind darkly whispered thoughts of fire and whips and knives, and the ice-cold terror rose up in his chest.

They'd hurt him. They'd drugged him. And they'd tied him up and kept him away from Rusty, and somewhere, they were _hurting Rusty._

"Let me out of here." It should have been a snarl, a threat, but his voice sounded hoarse and far away and he cursed in frustration. There were shadows moving somewhere close by and he felt like something was watching him, something cold and threatening. "Hey!" he croaked. "Let me go!"

Shouting must have achieved something, because there were footsteps approaching, hurried and unsteady. Frantically he tried to crane his neck to see what was happening, but the damn restraints didn't even let him do that. He was helpless and he hated it.

The figure stepped into view and for a moment, through the blur in his eyes, he thought it was Rusty. But then his mind cleared and he saw the truth. "Let me out of here!" he demanded again, glaring at the imposter, even as the bastard leaned forwards with a strange shushing noise and awkwardly patted his arm. "Let me out of here. Let me see Rusty."

The imposter hesitated before answering. "It's me, Danny," he said and he didn't even _sound_ like Rusty. "I'm here. You're...safe."

"Liar," he insisted. "I know Rusty. And just cos you've got his face doesn't make you him." There was something in his eyes that was wrong, and his face and hair were filthy, and he was dressed in stained, rumpled clothes that didn't fit right. And none of that was even what _mattered._

"It's me," the imposter said again. "You're hurt, Danny. You need to stay - "

He laughed scornfully. "Yeah, I'm not going to believe a word you say," he said. "I _know_ you're not Rusty. Rus' loves me. If he was here he'd have freed me already. He'd never trap me like this and he'd never...never _hurt_ me."

"Are you still in pain?" the imposter asked quickly.

He shook his head, refusing to answer. He didn't want to give the bastards reasons to hurt him again. "Where's Rusty?"

The imposter visibly slumped. "I'm here, Danny."

"No," he said shortly. "I want the real Rusty. Let me _go."_ He was breathing hard, ragged and exhausted. The anger and the fear raging through him was almost too much to deal with. He thought his heart might just crash out of his chest.

"Danny..." The imposter reached down towards his face, trying to caress him, and Danny snarled and did his level best to bite the bastard's hand. He smelled of sex and sweat and depravity.

"Don't touch me," he warned contemptuously. "You're disgusting."

For some reason the imposter laughed. "Yeah. Bet you think I'm not even worth twenty dollars."

"I wouldn't pay twenty cents for you," Danny said with a sharp smile. "Now, let me _go._ "

The imposter just stood there and shook his head slowly.

Danny tried to lunge up at him, tried to kick out, tried to move at all and he couldn't and the panic hammered at the inside of his chest. "Let mego!" he shouted again. And again.

* * *

It was hours before Danny settled and slept. Rusty tried to tell himself that it was a relief because now Danny was resting – healing, and pain-free – and wasn't being tortured by whatever hallucinations had left him paranoid and fearful. But truthfully, Danny not recognising him, looking at him with hatred and disgust, had been a torture all of its own. One that was still miles better than Danny being in agony, though. The morphine made a difference and that meant he had to keep Hans sweet enough to give them more.

It didn't mean anything that Danny hadn't recognised him. Danny had been confused and delusional, that was all. It had nothing to do with what he'd let Hans do. If he told himself that often enough he might end up believing it.

( _With a frown, he remembered again the anger on Hans' face as he flung open the door and strode downstairs. There was something wrong with that. There was something wrong, and he couldn't think past the dull screaming in his head to see what it was.)_

He managed to grab a moment to get washed and changed once Danny was asleep. He hadn't expected it to make him feel any cleaner and it hadn't. He could still feel Hans' hands on him. Eventually, he forced himself to meet his eyes in the mirror and nodded grimly at everything he saw. His reflection smiled at him with grim amusement. Utterly ruined. Yeah.

All this time even though he'd said time and again that he'd do anything for Danny's sake, he'd been trying his best to keep himself as clean of it all as he could. And that was _also_ for Danny's sake, but he had to let that fastidiousness go now. It wasn't getting him anything.

He sat back by Danny's bed and watched him sleep and let his mind run blank.

It was hours again before he heard the door and he looked up to see Hans at the top of the stairs dressed in a tuxedo, his bow tie hanging loose around his neck. His face was tinged pink, and he was looking round until he picked Rusty out.

Without conscious thought he stood as Hans walked downstairs, and he smiled, sunshine-bright and dazzling, and in the quiet room he could hear Hans' breathing pick up. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching Rusty and there was tiny frown creasing his brow. Not surprising. Right now he was a million miles from the quivering heap Hans had left that afternoon.

Not breaking eye contact, he slowly licked his lips.

Rusty had always been well aware of the effect he had. Charm and charisma might be what he traded in, but beauty and sensuality had always been part of the mix. And right now, walking up to Hans, hips swayed, he broadcast unselfconscious sexuality, and this time the kiss was anything but clinical. With a flick of his tongue, he invited Hans to plunge deep into his mouth, dominating him. He could taste the brandy. Hell, he could smell it. Good thing he didn't need to let the bastard near Danny right now. But truthfully, if Hans was drunk, that was only to the good. Any inhibitions he might have would be lessened, and that could give Rusty a way in.

As the kiss deepened he let Hans grip his wrists tightly, holding him in place. It was a test, he knew. Hans was searching for his limits, and after he bared his throat willingly for Hans to press rough kisses all the way down, watching the heat grow in Hans' eyes. Still not enough. "Did you have a nice evening?" he murmured

"Yes," Hans said slowly, emotions warring across his face. Lust mixed with suspicion mixed with careful calculation. "And I think it may be about to get better."

Thing was, Hans was a mark just like any other. He had something they wanted – needed – and they couldn't steal it or trick him, and all that was left was a trade. A favour for a favour, no different from any other time. He smiled again as Hans walked around behind him, so close he could feel his skin burn from the foulness. Hans' breath was hot on his neck.

The dream hadn't been a nightmare, it had been a wake-up call.

"Really?" he asked, soft-spoken and sultry, leaning into Hans just a little. "Is there something that you want, maybe? Something that you've always dreamed of?"

To his surprise, Hans stepped away abruptly, pacing across the room. And when he looked back at Rusty, his expression was eager and thoughtful and cruel. "You know," Hans mused. "I am afraid perhaps I have been neglecting you. All my attentions have been focused on giving your lover the care he needs. I think, perhaps, I should like to give you a medical examination."

Oh. So Hans liked to play doctor. He should have guessed. Well, it didn't matter the _what,_ he could do this. So, sexy patient seduces doctor...? No. No, Hans liked to be in control. This afternoon had more than proved that. So innocent patient trustingly following doctor's directions. Oh, fuck. He could do this. He had to do this.

His eyelashes fluttered convincingly. "Well, if you're sure that's necessary, doctor," he said.

He was a whore.

That was what he needed to be. Before, he'd been caught up in horror and reaction, and yes, Hans needed to be in control, wanted to watch him degrade himself, but it seemed as though that wasn't enough. Compliance only carried him so far. All the games Hans played...he wasn't coming up with them on the fly. Probably he'd played them out before with other vic... _people_...but he'd sure as hell fantasised about them. And that... _this..._ was the way in he needed.

At Hans' direction he stepped behind the curtain at the end of the room, still smiling. He didn't look at Danny. Danny was asleep and he wished with all his being that he would stay that way. This wasn't going to work if he thought of Danny.

When Hans joined him, he was wearing a white coat and a stethoscope and carrying a clipboard. He'd look the perfect picture of a respectable doctor, if it wasn't for the gleam of lust and anticipation. He adjusted the couch until the legs were down and the head was raised slightly. "Please take a seat, Rusty," he said, indicating it with a genial smile.

Rusty sat, crossing his ankles and folding his hands demurely on top of his lap. Carefully, he hid the shudder at the sound of his own name. It was a sign. Hans wasn't going to let this fall into complete fantasy. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Now, let's start with the easy questions, shall we?" Hans beamed. "Your name is Rusty and you are American. That I know. How old are you?"

"Twenty three," he answered truthfully. After all, there wasn't much point in lying. There was no story he could create that would keep him clean of this.

"You look younger than that," Hans remarked as he wrote it down meticulously. "I am surprised to learn you are so legal."

"Thank you," he said again, smiling to mask all the sharp remarks in his head. This wasn't about defiance, this was about showing Hans what was on offer.

"Do you suffer from any medical conditions?" Hans went on. "Asthma, diabetes, a heart condition...anything at all."

"Oh, no," he said, gazing up at Hans from beneath his eyelashes. "I'm a perfect physical specimen. Can't you tell?"

Hans laughed. "I'm afraid I cannot just take your word for it, Rusty," he chided. "I shall need to examine you more closely than that. Now, lifestyle questions. Do you smoke?"

"I quit last year," he admitted. "Before that I was smoking maybe five a day."

"I see," Hans nodded. "Well done on quitting. You know many people find that putting something else in your mouth as a replacement is effective technique to use. Have you tried this?"

"Occasionally," he said, and that was true. When he'd quit he'd carried bags of candy around – more than usual anyway. It had helped. "Sometimes I find I really just _crave_ having something in my mouth, I can't help it." He tried to deliver the line as innocently as possible and watched Hans' face. Mmm. He was more turned on by the innocent and unknowing than he had been by the overtly flirtatious and that made sense. Again, Hans was all about the control. He'd want to have the initiative. So coy and yet obliviously sexual. He could play that.

"And alcohol?" Hans asked. "About how much do you drink per week?"

"Depends on the week," he grinned, leaning back on the bed and crossing his leg over his knee. "Probably more than I should. I guess I have trouble saying no."

Hans didn't press him for details, not that Rusty would expect him to. This was all just preliminaries. Setting the scene for what would inevitably follow. Behind his back, where Hans couldn't see, he let his fingernails dig deep into his palm and reminded himself he was literally asking for this.

"Finally, let me ask you about exercise," Hans asked. "How many times a week do you do something that gets you out of breath?"

Being able to blush at will was a useful talent. He coloured prettily and licked his lips. "Does, uh, does sex count?"

Hans raised an eyebrow. "That depends. Does it normally go on for an hour or more?"

"A lot of the time," he nodded.

"Really?" Hans clicked his tongue. "Your lover has a lot of stamina. Although I suppose the fact that you're quite so easy on the eye does help. Now, how many times a week do these marathon sessions take place?"

He looked up earnestly. "Uh, doctor? Is that question really appropriate?"

"I am just attempting to judge your fitness level," Hans told him tranquilly. "Please do not fret."

He acquiesced gracefully. "Maybe between six and twelve times," he said, biting his lip. "But it doesn't always last that long." Sometimes it lasted all day. Lazy days of downtime when they had nothing to do but stay in bed and indulge in endless pleasure. He remembered the light shining on Danny's face. Sex had never felt like this before.

"Very well," Hans said, dusting his hands together briskly. "That is enough talk for now. We must proceed with your physical examination now. I should like it if you please remove your clothing."

Of course. He stood slowly and cast a reluctant glance at Hans before half-turning away and unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off and then easing his pants off. "Do you need my underwear off as well?" he asked.

"If you please," Hans nodded. "There is no need to be shy. I assure you, you will have nothing I haven't seen before."

This was the first time he'd been completely naked in front of Hans. He turned around slowly and stood with his back straight, letting his fingers play lightly over his mouth. Enticing. He had to look enticing. Cos he was losing all the mystery here.

Hans started by taking his pulse and blood pressure, his hands lingering over Rusty's bare flesh. "So, I understand you have a regular male lover, is that correct?"

"Yes," he agreed, and he didn't want to talk about Danny, that was the only limit here, he _didn't want to talk about Danny._

"And how long have the two of you been together?" Hans asked, stethoscope in hand, leaning forwards and listening to Rusty's chest. The stethoscope was ice-cold against his skin. "Breathe in deeply now."

He did, for a few breaths. "Six months," he said as Hans moved back.

"Six months," Hans repeated, smiling. "You are still in the honeymoon period, then. That is nice for you." He grimaced. "This hair makes it difficult," he remarked disapprovingly. "I should like it if you considered shaving before your next appointment. It is more hygienic."

"Really?" He widened his eyes. "Well, if you're sure, doctor."

"Doctor knows best," Hans told him benevolently. "So, you have been with your lover for six months. Now, what about before that? When did you lose your virginity?"

"Fourteen," he said easily and that he wasn't ashamed of. Anything was better than talking about Danny.

"That is very young indeed," Hans said, lips pursed. "You must have been even more of a twink boy than you are now. Please, stand with your legs apart."

He did. And he wasn't surprised when he felt Hans' hand slowly running up the inside of his leg. Even less surprised when he felt him purposefully caressing his balls. Yeah, the only place this counted as a medical was in a porn film.

"And how many sexual partners have you had since then?" Hans asked.

"Forty-eight," he answered, resisting the urge to keep his eyes on the wall and looking straight down at Hans instead.

"Dear me, you are very promiscuous, aren't you?" Hans said, clicking his teeth again, his thumb drawing small circles, pressing just a bit harder.

Rusty gasped sharply, loud enough for it to be unmistakeable. "Sorry," he said, sounding bewildered and ashamed.

"That is alright," Hans said benevolently. "I know that this part of the examination can feel confusing. Now, please. Turn your head and cough."

He did, and at Hans' touch, he lightly pressed himself forwards against his hand. The hatred and revulsion were drumming against the inside of his head. He locked them all away.

"Very well," Hans said slowly. "I should now like to take your temperature. Please jump up on the bed on your hands and knees, if you do not mind."

"Doctor?" he blinked, voice breathy. Hazy.

"I find that taking your temperature rectally is much more accurate," Hans explained, eyes gleaming. "Please, go ahead. Quickly, now."

He moved quickly and tried to arch his back enticingly. Graceful. Catlike. This was everything he'd expected. There was no reason for the terror clawing at his insides. No reason at all.

Hans placed a hand on the small of his back, and with a soft exhalation slipped the thermometer inside. It was cold and he shuddered, hoping it looked appealing. He counted in his head, reaching thirty eight before Hans finally removed it with a tutting noise.

"I have not got the proper reading," he sighed. "Ah, we will need to try another way. Please, sit up, Rusty. And open your mouth."

He did. And he expected the taste, and kept his face calm, and as Hans leaned forwards and pushed the thermometer further into his mouth, he could see the bulge beneath the white coat. Alright. At least this was working, and as Hans slowly pulled the thermometer out of his mouth, he pointedly stuck his tongue out and licked the end, slowly.

"Interesting," Hans said ponderously, his eyes bright with lust and there were no doubts there now, no suspicions. He simply wanted this. Wanted _Rusty._ "I think in light of your extensive sexual history, I am going to need to conduct an internal exam."

"Is that really necessary, doctor?" he asked, licking his lips apprehensively.

"Oh, yes," Hans said at once, the pink of his tongue showing through his teeth. "I would like to be very thorough with you. Please, wait one moment."

He stepped over to the couch and brought a metal stand over and spent a few moments adjusting it and screwing it into place and then...he stared. Stirrups. Like a gynaecology chair. For a moment, gripped with equal parts horror and incredulity, he almost felt like laughing.

"Hop up there now, if you please," Hans said pleasantly, his voice just a little hoarse, just a little strained.

Rusty did. And he put his feet in the stirrups without being prompted and didn't bother with more than a token murmur of surprise when Hans adjusted the stirrups higher and wider, until his legs were pulled wide apart and he was laid completely bare. He'd never felt this exposed in his life. For the longest moment, Hans just stood in front of him, staring and speechless. The bastard's erection was impossible to miss now.

"Very nice," Hans breathed. "Oh, that is very nice indeed."

He was playing along with this. He had to sell himself to Hans. This might not be on his terms, but it was still his own choice.

"Tell me, have you ever had a prostate check?" Hans asked once he'd finally got through leering.

"No," he said, injecting an note of nervous anticipation into his voice. Nervous wasn't exactly difficult to reach for. It was better to get this over with. It was better to make Hans want him, to play his games.

He looked between his legs as Hans stepped forwards with a tube of KY jelly. "You may find this a little strange at first then," he said. "Rest assured, it is a normal clinical procedure."

It took a lot of effort to keep his eyes fixed on Hans as he worked his bare fingers inside. One, then two, and Rusty made little panting noises, his lips parted, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

"This is interesting," Hans said again and the lust wasn't even disguised now. He was no actor. "Tell me, what is your favourite position?"

"Uh, cowboy," Rusty said, as he felt Hans scissor his fingers.

"Describe it for me," Hans instructed.

"He lies down and I sit on top and ride him," he said, and he could see from Hans' face that he expected more. "I love the feeling of sliding down as he comes up to meet me, and I like being able to look straight at him."

"I see," Hans said, adding a third finger, and it was too much and too soon and Rusty had to bite back on the yelp of pain. "And your lover? What is his preferred position?"

Danny. Danny's preferred position was far away from here, somewhere safe and clean where Rusty wasn't busy selling everything they were. In the end, it didn't matter. In that moment he knew beyond all shadow of a doubt, they were never gonna have sex again. "He likes to be on top," he said, remembering with a stab of agony dark eyes gazing down at him, full of wonder and love. "He likes my legs hooked over his shoulders."

"He sees you as a woman," Hans nodded. "That certainly makes sense."

Damnit. He needed Hans to stop talking about Danny. Right now, Danny didn't exist for him. With an effort, he clamped his muscles down around Hans' fingers, once and again and the first time he heard the sudden silence, and the second time he heard the lustful grunt, and this was what he needed to do, this was what he was.

After a beat, Hans resumed talking. "Tell me, can you normally achieve orgasm from anal penetration alone?"

"Yes." The lie escaped him before he could even consider it. The first one he'd told, and it wasn't to protect Danny, it was to protect himself. If Hans thought that, he'd waste time trying to make him come that way, and he'd be less likely to bother touching his cock. He felt ashamed and sick with himself for thinking like that, and he buried that shit with the rest.

"That might explain some of what I am finding here," Hans said, and he'd almost forgotten there was supposed to be some pretext for this. "I am sorry, it is very unorthodox, but I think I am going to need to conduct a closer examination, using a longer and more sensitive implement. Do I have your permission to proceed?"

He had to say yes. He had to say yes. He had to say "Yes," he said, and it was a strangled gasp. He swallowed hard and turned it into a breathy moan. "Oh, yes. _Please._ "

"Very well." He heard the sound of the zip, and Hans' cock was already hard and swollen. At least this wasn't going to last long. For a desperate moment, he wondered if there was any way he could ask him to wear a condom without breaking his mood.

( _For an even more desperate moment, he wondered about shoving Hans away and running._ )

He managed to force his face into an expression of stunned appreciation as Hans slid inside him for the first time. He even managed to give a soft, pleasured sigh and offer the appropriate noises as Hans began thrusting. This was what he'd been asking for. He kept a careful watch on Hans' face, and all those handjobs and blowjobs were good for something, because just at the right moment, just at the point of no return, he managed to softly say "Thank you, doctor," and that was enough.

Afterwards, he felt even more ruined than he had before.

Hans looked at him thoughtfully. "So, tough boy," he said as he wiped himself clean and tucked himself away. "What was all that about?"

Rusty sat up and swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, consciously making a point of ignoring the pain. "Thought you might like it."

"I did," Hans agreed. "Very much. But your sudden enthusiasm is...unexpected."

Right. He bit his tongue for a second, not thinking about what Danny would say. "So, here's the thing," he said. "You call me a thief, and that's true. To be exact, I'm a con man. An actor. Whatever you want in bed? I can convince you that's what I am. The better care you take of Danny, the more I'm willing to play along with any fantasy you care to name. You must have some. Everyone does. You want to be seduced by a horny patient? I can do that. You want a terrified virgin? I can do that too." He shrugged. "As long as you show up to give Danny his meds and whatever care he needs whenever he needs it, I'm yours completely. Body and mind. For whatever you want."

This was the tricky part. Hans was staring at him thoughtfully and Rusty _knew_ he wouldn't like being told what to do. But the offer was more than tempting, he could see that in his eyes. "I have to admit," he said. "You were far more convincing than I ever thought you would be."

He didn't sound completely swayed. "And more than that," Rusty went on, looking him straight in the eye. "Deep down, you'll know that I'm hating every second of it. You'll know that I'm degrading myself because I _need_ you. Because you have all the power here."

Hans smiled coldly. "I assure you, when I wish for you to 'lick my ass' as you Americans so crudely put it, I will let you know."

"'s not asskissing if it's true," he said with a shrug.

"Very well," Hans said. "I shall consider your offer."

"I have a couple of additional conditions," Rusty added quickly and he winced as Hans' eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Firstly, Danny is kept out of this," he emphasised. "I know we've agreed that before, but I mean it. And now that he's getting more conscious, we need to make sure he doesn't find out about us."

"You do not want your lover to know you are playing away from home," Hans nodded. "That is...acceptable."

"Secondly, no permanent physical injury or disfigurement." He cared less about that than he did about Danny, but he wanted to at least _try. (He owed it to Danny to at least try._ )

Hans pursed his lips. "That is imposing many limits, tough boy," he complained. "I have certain _interests._ I should enjoy performing minor operations on you. Nothing serious, nothing dangerous. I might take a biopsy of your leg, perhaps. That is hardly anything to get upset about, but it would leave a small scar. Are you really going to deny Danny the best care sex can buy because you do not wish a small scar?"

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Anything small, non-crippling and that I can hide from Danny is fine."

"Very good," Hans said. "Now, I shall retire to consider your kind offer. Goodnight, Rusty."

"Goodnight, "he echoed and he watched Hans walk away.

He dressed slowly. Walking out from behind the curtain was like walking back to reality from some awful nightmare world. Only reality was four blank walls and the smell of sex and antiseptic.

Danny hadn't stirred. And the accusation on his face was all in Rusty's mind. He gazed at him defiantly. "Better a whore than a victim," he whispered.

* * *

Danny woke in an unfamiliar bed with the feeling of dulled pain pressing in around him. It had that quiet quality that suggested that even if it wasn't too bad for the moment, it was only going to get worse. He felt weak. Drained. Like he'd been sick for a long time. Frantically, he tried to remember what happened. He remembered breaking into the vault, remembered alarms and running, remembered Rusty just ahead of him and then...nothing. No, not quite nothing. If he strained, he could recover scattered images of unbearable pain and nightmares, and he thought Rusty had been there, but then he thought Rusty _hadn't_ and it was all too confusing and he just didn't know the answers.

_Was Rusty alright?_ That was the question that mattered here. Everything else could wait.

He tried to sit up, to look around himself, but there was something holding him down and a sharper pain when he tried to push past it. He couldn't move. Oh, fuck, he couldn't move. Fear gripped him. "Rusty!" he called out. It had been more in hope than anything else, but there was a noise from somewhere down the side of the bed, and a second later Rusty was standing next to him, bleary from sleep. There was something wrong with his eyes. He looked afraid.

"Hey, Danny," he said softly. "Do you know who I am?"

He tried to crack a smile. "You're pretty unforgettable."

Relief broke across Rusty's face.

"I didn't recognise you?" he said, wondering at the impossibility.

"It wasn't your fault," Rusty said quickly. "You've been out of it for a while."

He could still move his arms, although they felt heavy and slow and distant, and he reached out blindly, trying to grasp Rusty's hand. After a moment, he felt Rusty's hand move in reach, and he held on tightly. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently.

"No," Rusty assured him. "Nothing like that." But there was a hollow quality to his voice and Danny nodded understandingly because they'd both found out long ago that no physical pain compared to watching the other suffer.

There were other questions he should be be asking right now. Questions about how bad he was hurt and what was going to happen, but he didn't dare. Rusty hadn't told him not to worry. And he couldn't move. He didn't want to think about what that might mean. "What day is it?" he asked instead.

Rusty blinked, clearly startled and was silent for a long moment. "The seventeenth," he suggested miserably, and it was clearly a guess. "It's about ten," he added, glancing at his watch.

"Morning or night?" he asked.

There was another long pause. "Morning," Rusty said at last, sounding slightly more sure. Right. By the quality of the light, there probably weren't any windows wherever they were. And Rusty wouldn't have left his side if he could help it.

"And it's still October?" he asked and relaxed at Rusty's now certain nod. "'s Saul's birthday then," he said, more for something to say than anything else.

"So it is," Rusty agreed with a laugh that was a little closer to hysterical than Danny would like. "He's going to think we forgot."

"He'll forgive us," Danny said with certainty. He closed his eyes for a long moment. The world grew darker and closer.

"Are you in pain?" Rusty asked quietly.

"Yeah, but it's not...I can deal with it," he promised, flashing Rusty a reassuring smile. "Just very tired." His mouth was dry. He licked his lips, but it didn't help. "Is there any water?" he asked.

"Of course," Rusty said guiltily. "I should have thought." He vanished, and Danny couldn't help but tense. "You're on an IV for fluids and stuff, so you won't get dehydrated, but Hans didn't say you were nil by mouth or whatever."

Unfortunately when he reappeared with a glass of water, figuring out how to actually drink, when he couldn't raise his head and even swallowing was a complicated effort, was tricky.

"I'll see if I can get Hans to give us a straw or some ice chips or something," Rusty said as he gently dabbed the water off Danny's chin after the third time he'd found himself coughing and choking it up. "In the meantime..." He carefully wet a cloth and held it up to Danny's lips. "You mind?"

He opened his mouth obediently and having it moistened did help. But he _did_ mind. Rusty shouldn't have to take care of him like this. He depended on Rusty sure, but he didn't want to be _dependent._ This wasn't the way things were supposed to be.

For a long moment he concentrated on the feeling of Rusty's thumb tracing circles on his palm.

"So what happened?" he asked at last, and he tried to make it sound light.

It took Rusty an even longer moment to answer. "You were shot," he said softly, his eyes dropping away from Danny's face. "In the back. While we were running. The bullet got lodged in your spine. I had to move you, they would have killed us both if they'd found us. I took you to the doctor that Franco recommended, Dr Hans. Turns out he's a neurosurgeon. So I guess we got ridiculously lucky there. He's got a whole operating room set up in his basement. He took the bullet out, repaired the damage it caused...he says you'll make a full recovery."

That sounded encouraging. And yet he could see on Rusty's face that he didn't quite believe it. "What do you think?"

Rusty shrugged. "What do I know?" he pointed out. "He tested your reflexes, or whatever. Your feet definitely moved."

He lifted his head the fraction he could and stared down the bed and tried to wriggle his toes. He couldn't even tell if it was working. How did you even move your feet? If it wasn't instinct, how did it work? "Anything?" he asked, breathless from the effort.

Rusty moved the blanket aside carefully. "No," he said after a second. "But you're on a lot of meds, remember, Danny? It doesn't mean anything."

Unless it did. He shivered at the thought. He couldn't be paralysed. He just _couldn't._ "So where are we now?" he asked, needing to take his mind away from the horror.

"Still in Hans' basement," Rusty answered promptly. "You're not supposed to be moved right now, so we're here for the next few weeks or so."

There was a distinct note of unhappiness in Rusty's voice. "That's bad?" he asked.

For a second, Rusty just gazed at him expressionlessly. Then he grimaced as life seemed to return to his face. "He figured out we were the ones who hit the palace. They're still looking for us, it was on the news."

"He's been making trouble?" Danny asked with a frown.

An ugly smile twisted Rusty's mouth briefly. "The bill is extortionate." He held up a hand as Danny's frown deepened. "No. I've got it under control. I've given him half the money up front and I'll get the rest when Bobby comes to pick us up."

He guessed they were coming out of this making a loss. He tried again – futilely – to move his feet. Seemed like that was the case anyway. Oh, God.

"Hey," Rusty soothed, stroking his wrist lightly. "'m sorry. It's going to be okay, I swear it. We'll be home soon and we can figure out everything from there. Right now, you just need to rest, okay?"

He gave a shaky smile for the comfort, but there was still a hollow feeling inside his chest. Right now he'd feel so much better if only Rusty would put his arms around him.

"That's not exactly possible right now," Rusty said softly. "I told you, you're not supposed to be moved, even a little."

And Rusty wasn't going to endanger his possible recovery for anything, Danny understood that. But surely a kiss...that would be alright. He wasn't the sort of guy who usually begged for affection ( _He didn't normally have to._ ) but right now he really needed it. He needed to know Rusty was here, and that he loved him.

"Oh, Danny," Rusty murmured helplessly, and he pressed his hand against Danny's cheek for a long moment, and Danny turned his head, leaning into it, and he could feel the tears slowly rolling down his face. Rusty wiped them away and stooped and pressed a clumsy kiss against Danny's lips. He reached up with a terrible effort and managed to drop his hand in Rusty's hair, trying to hold him for as long as possible, needing this moment to last.

Eventually, Rusty tried to pull away and Danny let him go immediately.

Rusty's eyes were red rimmed and there were shadows beneath them. Danny knew there was nothing more exhausting than waiting by a hospital bed. He clumsily raised Rusty's hand to his lips and offered gentle kisses of _sorry_ and _thank you._

"You should rest," Rusty said quietly.

Yeah. He should. And sleep was probably inevitable whether he should or not. "Maybe you can ask if we can get another bed in here?" he suggested sleepily. He understood that Rusty wasn't going to want to share his bed right now, but he knew how much he wanted Rusty beside him.

"There is another bed," Rusty told him.

Danny frowned. "And you've been sleeping on the floor? Does the bed move? Bring it over."

As Rusty hesitated, he couldn't help the frustration and the fear welling up inside him. " _Please,_ Rus'. Just knowing you're there...you know I'm going to sleep much better. I...I need you." It wasn't quite _I love you,_ except really it was.

And Rusty didn't have a chance of saying no now, not that Danny understood why he'd have said no anyway. "Okay," he said with a tired smile.

Truthfully, even the few moments Rusty was out of sight bringing the bed over, he felt alone and impossibly vulnerable. The silence was unnerving. Knowing that no matter what happened he couldn't do anything but lie here, was even worse. Finally, Rusty reappeared and pushed the other bed beside him, a couple of inches apart, he guessed, judging by the fact that he didn't feel any impact.

"Thanks," he said, his voice raw, as Rusty lay down beside him and took his hand.

"Don't thank me," Rusty said quietly, and wasn't that what he'd have always said? Only everything felt different now.

He held Rusty's hand tight and wished it was enough.

Eventually he slept.


	9. He is a good boy

"Oh! Yes! Yes! Harder, harder, yes, please. Oh, fuck, don't stop, I need you. I need you inside me, _please._ " His mind was detached while his mouth spewed filth and his hips bucked up eagerly to meet Hans' thrusts. Even as he was clenching and unclenching his toes, his legs flung over Hans' shoulders, he was studying Hans' face for reaction, keeping note of when to move, when to squeeze, whether to reach up and pull Hans towards him, or twist his hands into the sheets, which expression of fake ecstasy Hans most liked to see. Just like any other mask he wore, he had to be there, peeking out.

That was what Hans liked best. He liked to watch Rusty clean himself up afterwards, when he was trying – and more and more failing – to force his way past the reaction.

"Oh, fuck, you're so big," he babbled. "I can feel you all the way inside me. No one's ever touched me like this before."

Today's scenario was simple at least. Nymphomaniac patient goes to doctor because he needs to be constantly anally penetrated. The doctor shamelessly takes advantage, Hans _hadn't_ added, but it was pretty much a given. A porn movie plot, and Rusty had set his dialogue to match, which seemed to be exactly what Hans was looking for.

Truthfully, he preferred this. When he could just act like he wanted it things were awful – unbearable – but straightforward. A couple of times Hans' fancy had been less consensual. Pretending this was rape, struggling just enough to give the illusion he was trying to escape, but not enough to actually risk hurting Hans...that was its own special hell. And all the time he was constantly wondering; was he _making_ himself cry or was he _letting_ himself cry? When he begged Hans to stop, was that his own words? He honestly didn't know. And that frightened him.

"Oh, fuck, yes, that's it, fill me up, I want it, I love it! Make me yours."

Hans' face was purple and contorted, his mouth hanging open. The thrusts were becoming faster and more erratic. Not long now, he thought with exhausted relief, and sure enough, Hans suddenly grabbed his ankles and shoved them backwards, bending him almost in two. He managed to turn the cry of pain into a pleasured moan as Hans pounded harder and deeper. There would be bruises later. He would hurt for the rest of the day at least. ( _He would hurt for the rest of his life._ ) Hans was not a gentle lover. He didn't seem to get off on violence at least, but Rusty's body was so much flesh to be manipulated and bent to his will.

Hans finally came with a shout and pulled out, and Rusty let his legs fall with a soft sigh. But Hans was still standing, looking down at him curiously, even as he methodically wiped his dick and tucked it away, and Rusty groaned internally. Hans was still play acting.

"So how are you feeling after the treatment, Rusty?" Hans asked.

He pouted. "Empty inside," he said, giving the answer he knew Hans wanted to hear. Of course, it was also the absolute truth.

Hans sighed. "I was afraid of that. Your case is most severe. There is another treatment that I should like to try on you. It was previously used in the treatment of hysteria. I believe you may find it invigorating."

No, no, no, no, _no._ The shudder of dread and revulsion ran down his spine. No more. Not now. He needed to rest. He needed a chance to be himself, at least for a little while, _please._

He licked his lips and sat up slowly, fixing Hans with a look of sultry intrigue. "If you think it will help, doctor," he acquiesced, gracefully spreading his legs.

With a laugh, Hans threw him a box of medical wipes. "Not today, tough boy. But I will keep your eagerness in mind for the future. We will return to this, I think. You remain so very willing and so delightfully easy. But for now, please get yourself cleaned up and come and assist me with Danny. I fear the venflon in his arm is playing up. I will require to flush it, and if that is unsuccessful we will need to place another one."

He got cleaned up in silence, aware of Hans watching. He had little doubt that Hans would want to find new ways to 'treat' him, and he felt sick at the thought. Hans kept his most perverted fantasies for when Rusty wanted something. The ice chips Danny craved so, a few books to read aloud to keep Danny company without his treacherous tongue running wild, a toothbrush and toothpaste, more soap, deodorant and aftershave to disguise the smell of sex he could never seem to wash away completely...each little luxury he paid for in ways he would never have imaged. Any kind of medical procedure that was invasive and humiliating, Hans was eager to try. He'd had medical devices lovingly shoved into every orifice and he'd suffered through things that he'd never understand how _anyone_ could find sexy. He might have thought that Hans was simply testing his obedience if the bastard's arousal wasn't so fucking obvious.

( _He was on his hands and knees on the bed, guts distended and painful, and he could feel the tubing slapping sharply against the back of his thighs and the awful pressure was still pumping inside him, and the bag must be almost empty but he couldn't look round to see because his mouth was busy around Hans' dicks, and Hans' hands were stroking through his hair, and as he looked up Hans said "You know, I thought we agreed that if your mouth was on my penis, you should be masturbating," and he couldn't, he_ couldn't _..."_

He bit down hard and tasted blood. It dripped off his wrist and landed on the sheets, mixing with his tears.

"Really,tough boy, life is not so bad," Hans scolded delightedly. "Your Danny is healing nicely, is he not? And you have no one to blame for our current arrangement but yourself. Tell me how much you hate what I make you do?"

"Completely," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"And yet you do it anyway," Hans went on, smile surely in danger of splitting his face apart. "Because I ask you to. I do not threaten or bluster, I simply ask and you leap to obey. I think in Danny's absence, you are desperate to find someone to submit to."

"I hate you," Rusty observed, the same way he might remark upon the weather.

Hans chuckled. "I know. That is what makes you so enjoyable."

Later, after Hans had got through treating Danny, Rusty sat again by his bedside and watched him sleep. Danny was still asleep or unconscious for most of the day. But the periods when he was awake were getting longer and more frequent. Rusty worried about how difficult it was getting to keep everything from him. At least Hans tended to want to fuck him just after he'd given Danny his meds, when he'd be most likely to be asleep and stay asleep.

Of course he wondered whether Hans was giving Danny too much, overdosing him so he could have his fun. In the back of his mind as he watched Danny sleep there was always the whisper, darkly reminding him that morphine was dangerous and addictive. But the drugs were still better than the pain, weren't they? The fact that he was terrified of Danny seeing what he'd sunk to was neither here nor there.

He didn't know what Danny would do if he found out. Oh, he knew the nightmare where Danny called him a whore was nothing more than that. He hadn't lost touch with reality so much that he thought Danny would blame him...but neither would Danny be able to stop him. Danny would still be helpless and he'd still need medical treatment, and right now this was the only way of getting it. It was a simple choice; Rusty go along with Hans' games or Danny _at best_ suffering a lifetime of a fate he'd find worse than death. ( _Was Hans worse than death? Maybe. But he wasn't worse than_ Danny's _death._ )

But Danny would rather die. And Rusty couldn't let that be his call.

He imagined Danny forced to watch Rusty letting Hans fuck him – _hurt_ him – helpless to do anything but scream and swear and suffer. That would be all it took to break them once and for all.

With a sigh he buried his face in his hands. "When we get home," he said, soft and muffled. "You're going to heal. You're going to get stronger. You're going to walk again. And I'm going to be there, I'm going to help you, I'm going to support you, I'm going to be everything you need. And I'm going to let this relationship crumble away so gradually that by the time we break up it'll feel inevitable." He figured that would be the only way he could hope to keep their friendship intact. He wanted it to seem natural, like they'd simply been better as friends. And of course he wanted to make sure this was after Danny had healed; he didn't want Danny thinking that all this had anything to do with it. Come to think of it... "I'll need to let you fuck me a few more times," he said out loud, and he winced at the way his words sounded. Too blunt by far. "Sorry." But he needed to keep Danny from suspecting anything might have happened, and more than that, there would be scars. There could be permanent damage. Danny needed to know that could never make a difference, not to him or anyone else who mattered.

Anyone else...His mouth was dry. But so were his eyes. "And then, later, you'll meet someone – a woman – and you'll love her and everything will be fine. Just the way it always should have been."

It hurt. Far more than he wanted to admit, it hurt.

"I should have said no right from the start," he said tiredly. "Too dazzled, I suppose. Too happy that you wanted me, that I wanted you, to think about what was best for us. For you." He pulled savagely at his hair and the pain was more a relief than anything else. "I know you love me, Danny. I've never doubted that. And it's not that I think you're settling exactly..." He bit his lip and tried not to imagine the look of quiet fury on Danny's face. "Just that I think that deep down..." Damnit. "Everything between us. We have this... _connection._ And I can't help but wonder if somewhere, very deep down, you were worried that you would never meet anyone else you shared that with."

It was easy to imagine the look in Danny's eyes. Easy to imagine the _Do you have any idea how insulting that is?_

"I know," he admitted heavily. "Fuck, I know. Maybe I should have just trusted you to know what you want. Left it at that. But here's the thing, Danny. There are things that you want that I can't give you. A conventional life. I'm not just talking about the obvious - marriage, kids, society's approval. I know you understand that's not going to happen. But it's more than that. You want more than that. Look. I'm the guy who wakes you up at three o'clock in the morning and says 'I'm hungry. Let's go to Monaco.' That's who I am, and you...you love that, I know. But you want something – someone – more settled than that. Someone who's home. And you want someone who'll let you take care of them, someone who'll let you be strong." Someone who would submit. The thought crept darkly into his mind and he shook his head almost violently trying to dislodge it. No. That wasn't what Danny wanted. ( _Was it?_ )

He sat in silence for a few seconds, his train of thought wrecked. Danny's face was smooth and untroubled. "You want that, and I don't know that I can be that," he said at last. "And if I try and force myself, you'll hate us both."

He could picture the frown. Hear Danny's voice earnestly telling him that all that didn't matter, because Rusty was the one Danny loved, and there was nothing more important than that. They would figure things out because that was what they did.

"Yeah," he said with a grim smile. "And what happens if you do meet a woman who makes you feel the way I make you feel, and _can_ offer you all that? Oh, I know you wouldn't cheat on me. That's not the question, I know you better than that. You'd walk away. You wouldn't even try, and suppose you're missing out on the woman of your dreams? Suppose you wind up resenting me?

There was no answer from Danny. He sighed and let his head fall back. "It's not even just that," he admitted heavily, looking at Danny, his brow creased. "See, I know that this," He gestured between them. "Feels right to you, but I'm not sure you've actually thought through the consequences. It doesn't go 'And then they started dating and everyone was happy for them and they lived happily ever after.' That's not reality."

He leaned forwards, his shoulders tense and hunched. "Reality is keeping your eyes open when you kiss your partner cos you need to be alert to who might be watching. It's thinking twice before you take his hand, considering whether it's worth the shit you'll get. You'll _both_ get." Of course, he was him and his answer was always 'Yes, fuck the rest of the world...but that didn't mean there'd never been consequences. "It's coming home to find someone's carved 'fag' on your door in broad daylight, and somehow no one saw a thing." That wasn't his story, it was Livingston's. His dorm room at college. He'd had to pay to get the door fixed. "It's leaving the club in a group because you saw the assholes waiting on the way in, and some of these kids don't know how to handle themselves. It's being told that the hotel suddenly has no rooms when you ask for a double."

He grinned suddenly – humourlessly – conceding the point. "Alright, so we had to deal with that one long before we ever started dating. Doesn't change the point. Reality is people laughing and bottles being thrown, disgusted looks, being called a disease...the rest of the world doesn't care that you're in love, Danny. Doesn't care that you're happy, that this is real. Long as you're with me, all they'll see is a faggot. And that's..." That wasn't who Danny was. That wasn't what Danny deserved.

"I don't want that for you, Danny," he said with quiet agony. "And I know that's not the call I get to make, but I just...I don't want to put you through that."

Trembling, he reached out and brushed Danny's hair away from his forehead. "I know you, Danny. I know how angry that shit makes you when I'm the one dealing with it. Remember a couple of years back when I came home from my date with Michael with a bloody lip? Just a lucky throw from some kid, but you were ready to go hunt them down and do fuck knows what, and I'm just not sure you're built to handle that twenty four seven. 's easier to be righteous from the outside. And I seriously doubt you've thought about what this might mean for us professionally. You know how many guys we work with only tolerate _me_ because they want to work with _you_?"

That was unfair. That was exactly the sort of information that Danny didn't know because Rusty didn't share it. But Russo had said to Rusty's face that he didn't normally work with faggots, but he was making an exception 'because Danny trusts you', and Blythe and Sandberg went out of their way to plan jobs where Danny would have to spend time with other detail guys, like they were running some anti-dating service, and Schneider always disinfected everything Rusty touched, muttering darkly about AIDs all the while, and Rusty knew damned well what Lenny Karowitz said about him behind his back. "And don't even get me started on Brigstock and O'Dell," he added with a sigh.

Thing was, he could – and did – laugh at all that, because he honestly didn't give a damn what anyone thought about him. But the thought of Danny having to deal with that, the thought of Danny being subjected to all that simply because he loved another man – loved _Rusty_ – well, suddenly it wasn't in the least bit funny.

He rubbed his fingers across his mouth, angry at just the thought. "And you'd probably say that we shouldn't be working with those people at all then. But some of them are the best at what they do, how far do you wanna take it? You can't just block out the part of the world you don't like. Principles are all very well, but sometimes you just got to suck it up and be practical."

Only up until now, Danny hadn't. Because Danny had the luxury of being able to walk away. And just because Danny never would didn't change that.

"I wish things were different," he said softly. "But they're not. And I don't want you hurt by it all."

He stretched painfully and gasped at the lines of pain radiating out through his body. There were lots of reasons why this had to end. And still, he was sorry.

* * *

Danny woke sluggishly, struggling for a while to remember where he was and what had happened. Right. Right. Doctor's basement. Shot in the back. Terrific.

He hated feeling so weak all the time. He could barely manage to stay awake for an hour at a time and sometimes even speaking was an unbearable effort and he'd get too tired to finish a sentence. And the pain was a constant presence, sometimes dulled but never gone. And sometimes, sometimes, it hurt so bad it was all he could do to scream.

Thing was, he felt like he needed to stay awake. The shadows round Rusty's eyes were darker every day and there was a strain to his smile that had never been there before. Being trapped in this room, taking care of Danny would take its toll, and this was the worst either of them had ever seen the other hurt, and the first time either of them had been hurt at all since they'd got together. All of that would be more than enough to explain the hell on Rusty's face and still Danny saw little moments – flickers – of disassociation and he was frightened there was something more he was missing. There was so much time he couldn't account for. He didn't know if they'd come straight here, he didn't know if Rusty actually had been hurt after all. He was afraid. And still he knew it was all too possible that he was projecting his fear for himself onto Rusty, because he might never walk again and he couldn't bear the thought of it. He could...he would...Right now he was trapped inside a body that wouldn't respond to him and the idea of having to live like that for the rest of his life was something he just couldn't begin to deal with. No more cons. No more feeling the rush of leading some mark through a dangerous dance. No more abseiling down a building in broad daylight to steal a single diamond. No more wild plans. No more jetting off to Paris in the middle of night because Rusty wanted breakfast from that little patisserie by the Seine. No more waking up with Rusty in his arms and planting soft kisses down his neck until they were both awake in every way imaginable. No more _Rusty._

And he imagined Rusty staying to look after him and he hated the thought of that too. Rusty's life curtailed – _ended_ – because of him. No. If the worst happened he would need to find some way to set Rusty free.

Just for a second he imagined living without Rusty. Imagined going through all that without Rusty by his side, and he could feel his eyes prickling.

And Rusty was nowhere in sight, and he hated waking up alone, hated the loneliness and the helplessness. He closed his eyes for a second and admitted his weakness. "Rusty?" he called, hating the uncertainty and desperation he could hear underlining his voice. "Rus'?"

There was an odd muffled noise and then there was silence. No answer. He bit his lip and stared at the ceiling. Probably that meant Rusty was in the bathroom. Taking a shower, maybe. He had to be close at hand, Danny hadn't been left alone. He hadn't.

Sure enough, a second later he heard footsteps and then Dr Hans stepped into view, straightening his tie, his face lightly pink. "Oh, Danny," he said with a genial smile. "I was not expecting to see you awake. I have been writing up notes for one of my other patients." He pursed his lips and studied Danny's face carefully. "How are you feeling? What would you say your pain level is?"

He relaxed slightly. All Hans' concern was focused on him not Rusty, which suggested Rusty was fine. And those were the questions Hans asked every time he woke up and there was something reassuring in that.

"Tired," he admitted truthfully. "And I don't know...maybe a three or four?"

Hans nodded, looking concerned. "The morphine is starting to wear off then. You are not due for another dose, but I could give you something else to help you sleep?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, I'd rather stay awake for a while. Even with the pain."

"If that is your desire," Hans said, looking at him shrewdly. "I know healing can be a frustrating process but you must not push yourself."

"Fine," he acquiesced. In spite of what Rusty had told him about the bill Hans was charging them, it really did seem as though Hans had his best interests at heart. He'd been there the second time Danny remembered waking up and he'd introduced himself politely, been patient and professionally friendly, with a sort of quaint formality which was oddly disarming. He'd let Danny ask all the questions he could think of, and he'd gone out of his way to explain what he'd done in as clear terms as he could. He'd even brought them ice chips, books, a clock so Danny could check the time when he woke, an extra blanket when he'd been cold, and he'd been bringing Rusty home-cooked meals. Really, he was one of the better doctors Danny had ever encountered. These little acts of kindness made a difference.

"Where's Rusty?" he asked. "I called for him and he didn't answer."

Hans glanced away towards the far side of the room where Danny didn't have a hope of seeing. "He is resting," he said finally. "He has been _very_ tired. I could get him for you, if you feel you need him right now?"

"No, no, that's fine," Danny said hastily. "Let him sleep." For Rusty to actually sleep through Danny calling for him...he had to be exhausted. "He's normally such a light sleeper."

Hans nodded sympathetically. "He has been very attentive to you since you got here," he said. "He has bent over backwards to take care of you." Of course Rusty had. Danny couldn't imagine anything else. And still he felt guilty even before Hans added "It has been very difficult for him, I think. You have been very demanding. Understandably so, of course."

He swallowed back the spike of hurt and indignation. Yes, of course that wasn't for Hans to say...but had he been? He wanted Rusty with him all the time, and he wanted – needed – the physical comfort and affection. And of course he knew that Rusty wouldn't begrudge him that, but Rusty had never been as tactile as Danny and maybe he was finding it all...not _annoying_ exactly...oh, hell, he didn't know what he was suddenly afraid of. He just knew he was afraid.

"He is going to get a cramp lying like that," Hans went on smoothly, still looking over where Danny couldn't see. "I should like to try and make him more comfortable. Is that alright with you, Danny?"

He blinked slowly. "Why are you asking me?"

Hans laughed as if highly amused by something. "I am a doctor," he declared. "It is within my nature to seek explicit consent for everything I do. You are his lover, it is only natural I should ask your permission before touching him."

Oh. Right. Rusty had told Hans about them? He hesitated for a long moment, strangely reluctant, and in his mind he was standing up and walking over and gently shifting Rusty out of whatever position he'd twisted himself into, placing a pillow under his head and tucking the blanket around his shoulder, and then Rusty opened his eyes and smiled sleepily up at him and...

Right. None of that was possible anymore. Even something so simple was beyond him. And Rusty still deserved to be comfortable. "Sure," he told Hans tiredly. "Just try not to wake him, okay?"

"I shall do my best," Hans promised, smiling.

He stared up at the ceiling again, listening as Hans' footsteps crossed the room then trying to make out the soft noises that followed. He didn't hear any voices, so it seemed as though Rusty didn't wake up. God. He must be completely exhausted and the guilt choked him. Maybe he really needed to ask less. Ruthlessly, he suppressed the swell of loneliness at the thought.

Eventually Hans reappeared, still smiling. "He is fine, all is well," he said happily, as he set about checking Danny's IV lines.

"He told you we were lovers?" Danny asked. Honestly, he couldn't help himself. Hell, he didn't even know why it hurt, except that Rusty had silently made it clear he wasn't comfortable telling anyone else up until now.

"Ah," Hans said, looking at him quickly. "Yes, he did. We have had a lot of time to get to know each other while you have been sleeping, Danny. I'm sorry, is it not common knowledge? You are not ashamed of him, I hope?"

Ashamed... "No!" he said fiercely. "Never."

"That is good," Hans beamed. "He is a good boy, there is no need for shame."

Danny nodded in absent agreement and secretly made a mental note to store up Hans' description of Rusty as 'a good boy' for some future date. He could already picture the look on Rusty's face.

"Now, Danny, I am afraid I must return to what I was doing," Hans sighed regretfully. "I should like to enjoy your company but I am afraid I gave my word to someone else that I would attend to them instead. Alas, there is no rest for the wicked."

"Of course," Danny said politely and it wasn't like Hans was the one he wanted to spend time with. But as Hans walked away he realised that actually anything was better than being alone.

Why had Rusty confided in Hans? He imagined Rusty sitting by Danny's bedside, Danny's hand wrapped between his, pressed to his lips, Hans standing by with his medications and a sympathetic listening ear, inviting all the soft confessions. Yes. Not like he could blame Rusty for feeling this same loneliness. And maybe it meant something that Rusty had been willing to admit to their relationship.

It was Danny who'd initiated everything. Who'd made the first move. And he knew that his feelings were returned, but he also knew that Rusty hadn't have a lot of history with relationships and he needed to be patient. Gradually, given time, Rusty would come to understand that the difference between loving someone and being in love with them wasn't simply sex.

In the meantime they made each other happy. These last six months had been the best of Danny's life.

A sudden noise had him instinctively trying to raise his head and he bit his lip hard to get past the wave of pain and dizziness that resulted from the attempt. Fuck.

He wasn't even sure what he'd heard. Hadn't been a voice. Maybe Hans had dropped something? Though he had the hazy impression it had been somehow fleshy? "Everything all right?" he called.

"All is well," Hans answered a second later, and his voice sounded unnaturally calm. "A momentary frustration. Do not trouble yourself."

Sure. Not like he could do anything anyway. And it wasn't his business anyway. Heh. Maybe Hans had one of those stress balls to throw at the wall or something.

He slid back down into reverie. The loneliness was easier when he just let his mind drift.

Falling in love with Rusty had been a gradual process. There hadn't been a sudden realisation, not exactly. He'd loved Rusty from the first day they'd met, and that had been easy to accept. Friendship with someone who lived in your world, who followed your every thought and understood you completely, who made you dare more, _dream_ more simply by being...well, how could anyone resist? And then they lived together, worked together, spent most of their time together, and slowly Danny came to realise that Rusty was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night. Truthfully he didn't _want_ to spend his time with anyone else.

It was unexpected and he found himself turning the thought over and over in his head for weeks, wondering what it all meant and what he should do, and if he should even do anything at all? Things were good the way they were. That was a lot to jeopardise for something that might just be a crush and blurry lines. He would talk to Rusty about it. At some point. Maybe.

And then one night he was out on a date with Lucille who he'd been seeing casually on and off for a few months. They'd ended up back at her place and they'd been lying on the sofa, kissing like it was going out of style, and he'd found himself thinking about Rusty's hands on his last week, when he'd been helping him out of the tunnel, and how bright his smile had been, how soft his lips had looked, and he imagined leaning forwards at that moment, imagined Rusty's eyes closed in invitation, his fingers running teasingly down Danny's arms...

Oh.

He opened his eyes and sat up quickly, leaning away from Lucille.

"What's wrong?" she asked, giggling.

"I'm sorry," he said steadily. "I just realised I'm thinking about someone else."

"Really." She pouted and laughed a little. "Is she pretty?"

Danny smiled. "He's wonderful," he said simply.

She laughed again. "Why are the best ones always gay?" she lamented.

They'd parted friends and he'd walked all the way home, needing time to think. Gay. Was he? He'd never felt attracted to another man before. Never even felt curious, and he certainly didn't think that all the feelings he'd ever had for women in the past had been based on a lie. And obviously he knew it wasn't as simple as gay/straight – Rusty slept with men and women like the difference was no difference at all – but being straight except for one person? Was that even a thing?

It was well past midnight when he got in. And Rusty was standing in the hallway, gleefully attaching a tape recorder to a ski-masked mannequin, and he looked up when he saw Danny and Danny smiled back _'I am completely in love with you,_ ' he thought, and it wasn't a realisation it was just a fact. Simple and obvious and a long time in the making.

Even then he didn't tell Rusty. Just because he felt what he felt didn't mean Rusty would feel the same way. He watched anxiously for signs and there was always love in Rusty's eyes when he looked at Danny, and he always smiled inside, like seeing Danny was just the best part of his day, even if they'd been apart for less than a minute.

Maybe this could work. Maybe they could have something real here. At the very least, surely they should give it a chance. All he needed was the perfect moment to let Rusty know how he felt.

Still he hesitated because yes, emotionally, he felt as though this worked but physically...his heterosexuality was nagging away at the back of his mind. Oh, not in a masculinity-under-threat sort of way; he'd laugh in the face of anyone who suggested love could somehow make anyone 'less of a man'; but just the physicality of it all. Suppose he told Rusty how he felt, and they started something, and Danny discovered that the physical attraction just didn't translate? That just wouldn't be fair, not to either of them. No, somehow he needed an answer to that before starting anything.

Guiltily, he tried fantasising. He'd seen Rusty naked often enough, and now he imagined how he would feel, how he would taste. He imagined hard muscle where he'd normally expect soft curves, imagined Rusty's soft lips and warm mouth, imagined Rusty's hands everywhere at once...but more than that, he imagined how Rusty would laugh with him in bed, how he'd know everything Danny was feeling without him having to say a word, imagined how it would feel to give Rusty pleasure, imagined seeing Rusty lost in ecstasy because of _him,_ his hands or his mouth or...

It worked for him. It more than worked for him, and the fact that he felt weird afterwards had nothing to do with Rusty being a man, and everything to do with the fact that Rusty didn't know, and that was wrong.

He couldn't wait any longer to tell him. And at the close of Toronto job, with Rusty bright and beautiful and alive, almost shining with the joy of the world, Danny couldn't help but take his chance.

Their first kiss was everything he might have dreamed of. A moment of perfection on a perfect night, and when he hesitantly checked if it was all okay, Rusty smiled at him, all the love and warm desire shining through. "Definitely," he murmured. "But let's try it again a few more times, just to be sure."

Later, Rusty asked why then and he just smiled. "You just looked so damn kissable," he said.

There were tears in his eyes. That night seemed so much further away than just six months. He longed to roll onto his side, to cover his face and hide away, but he couldn't. He was stuck here, flat on his back, exposed in the middle of this room and staring at the fucking ceiling. And he was alone.

He heard another muffled noise and gave in. "Hans?" he called softly.

There was another measured pause before Hans replied. "Yes, Danny, what can I do for you?"

He swallowed hard. "Could you wake Rusty for me? I'm sorry. I need him here."

"Very well, Danny," Hans said, clearly reluctant. "Just one moment please."

There was maybe ten seconds of silence and then Hans' voice grew louder and cheerier. "Rusty! It is time to wake up now, please." He guessed that Hans must be standing over Rusty now, shaking him, but that didn't make sense because he hadn't heard the footsteps... "Your lover has need of you. He feels you have been neglecting him shamefully."

Danny frowned, because even as a joke that wasn't true and it wasn't funny. "Rusty - " he started to say.

" - I'm awake," Rusty cut in abruptly, his voice hoarse. "I'll be over in a minute, okay, Danny? I just need to go freshen up first. Please."

"Of course," Danny agreed softly, and it wasn't like he thought Rusty should drop everything and race over just because Danny needed him...it was just that up until now Rusty always _had._ And he didn't know what had changed now.

When Rusty finally did appear, five minutes later, his smile was subdued. There was no shine to him now. No joy. But he took Danny's hand like he could pretend everything was alright.


	10. Just a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is what was originally the second part of the last chapter. Enjoy...if enjoy is the right word at this stage...

* * *

 

He pushed the beds together again at Danny's request. He knew Hans didn't like it, but frankly, on this, Hans could take a running jump off a cliff. Danny wanted – needed – him close at hand and that was all that mattered. Honestly.

Every day Danny grew stronger. Hand had started making noises about starting physiotherapy which was surely all to the good. Unfortunately with Danny's growing strength had come an awareness of the world around him. Danny had asked him if something was wrong a bunch more times now. So far Rusty had managed to deflect, but he could only keep that up for so long. Maybe worse, Hans had stuck to his word as far as keeping Danny in the dark went. He'd been the picture of perfect professionalism. No, it was all Rusty giving them away here. He tried to make sure he was out of Danny's line of sight when Hans was talking, but he couldn't hope to hide the reaction. The longer Hans went on, the more he withered away inside, and Danny knew him far too well not to notice the difference.

Danny was getting stronger which meant he should be relieved and happy – and he _was –_ but there was a dark cancer growing on his soul and he couldn't break free of this hell.

He had to concentrate on living in the moment. Right now he was sitting cross legged on the bed, reading from one of the worst books he'd ever read, and Danny was laughing along with him, and if he tried really hard he could ignore the filth and the pain and the locked door and pretend they were lying on some beach together, far away from another living soul.

"Astrena reached out a hand and stroked the unicorn's cerulean marbled horn," he read. "It was soft like morning dew on a field of blue bells inside a fairy ring on the first day of spring. His horn – swirled with velveteen starlight – stood proud and erect, dimples blazing prettily in the scandalous sunlight."

"Proud and erect?" Danny repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "This had better not be going where it sounds like it's going."

Rusty flicked through a few more pages of adjectives. "Says here she rides him. So your guess is as good as mine." He made the joke because they both expected him to make the joke, and Danny laughed but he still felt something twisting inside.

"So do you think Hans had this lying around for light reading?" Danny asked idly. "Or do you think it was left by a previous patient?"

"Don't know," Rusty said slowly. He didn't want to think about what Hans might do for fun. But somehow he doubted the bastard's tastes extended to unicorns and princesses. He needed to change the subject. "Hey you remember that woman with the unicorn collection? Wanted us to steal the prop from Legend?"

Danny grinned. "That was the part of her collection I found _least_ disturbing," he said.

Rusty nodded, shuddering theatrically. "In pride of place - "

" - the stuffed horse!" Danny remembered.

"A taxidemist's nightmare - "

" - or PT Barnum's dream."

They laughed and Rusty felt himself relax, just a little. He remembered how he'd felt back then. How Danny had made him feel. He'd give anything to have that back again.

"Rus'?" Danny's voice was a strangled whisper. His eyes were huge. "I can feel my foot twitching."

Not daring to breathe Rusty leaned forwards and carefully pulled the blanket aside. Sure enough Danny's right foot was moving restlessly. He took a deep breath. "Can you - "

" - I can't control it," Danny confirmed. "But I can _feel_ it. That's...that's got to be good, right?"

The smile broke across his face. "That's good," he agreed. "Oh, Danny that's fantastic."

Danny smiled too, eyes full of wonder and hope, and he reached up his hand towards Rusty's face and without even thinking about it, Rusty grabbed it and pressed fierce kisses across each finger and Danny was looking up at him, soft heat in his eyes. "Trying to make something else twitch?" he asked suggestively.

Rusty recoiled and couldn't hide it.

The smile turned instantly to a frown. "Rus'..." Danny began and at that moment the door slammed open and Hans stormed downstairs, anger in every footstep.

"It is time for Danny to take a nap now," he announced.

He checked his watch with a frown, but it wasn't time for Danny's meds yet. And surely they had more important things going on. "He just felt his foot switch," he objected. "Don't you want to check that out?"

"I should like to check his wound today," Hans said, his gaze hard and angry as he looked at Rusty.

What had he done? Evidently Hans felt like he'd done something wrong...this couldn't just be because he'd pushed the beds together again, could it? No, Hans had been angry before he could have even see that. So maybe he was just in a bad mood and wanted to take it out on Rusty? No that didn't fit – this felt personal.

"Can't it wait?" Danny asked, still looking at Rusty with a troubled expression.

And Rusty really didn't want to have that conversation, but he wanted Hans to start drugging Danny for the sake of his dick even less. "Even just until tomorrow," he agreed.

Hans sighed deeply. "I wish to check for signs of leakage and infection," he informed them, still looking straight at Rusty. "If you are happy to leave your lover while infection sets in then that is your prerogative. But if you leave him he may get a fever. And I cannot guarantee he will not start to see things that would distress him."

He got that threat loud and clear. He set his jaw. "Fine," he ground out.

"Not fine," Danny objected. "Check if you must, but you don't need me out for that, surely."

"I will need to roll you over in order to check your wound," Hans pointed out. "The pain will be very bad indeed and if you are conscious and attempt movement you could do yourself a lot of mischief."

And if Hans was at all sincere, all that would be entirely true. "He's right, Danny," he said softly. "It'll be better if you sleep for a couple of hours. You'll be fine, don't worry."

"Rus'..." Danny's eyes expressed deep unhappiness and Rusty smiled reassuringly, conscious of Hans quietly drawing up a dose of sedatives and stepping behind Danny to the IV line.

"We'll talk when you wake up," he lied.

Even as Danny's eyes closed he was focused on Rusty, pleading with him, and he was sure that Danny still didn't know what was going on here, just that something was wrong.

He brushed his left hand slowly down Danny's cheek, making sure he was entirely asleep. He was. And that was a betrayal.

"If you have quite finished pawing at your lover..." Hans said coldly.

For a second he stood, his jaw set, his shoulders tight with hate. Then he forced himself to relax and turned slowly, his smile soft and flirtatious and inviting. "So what do you want?" he murmured.

"You simper like that when you look at him," Hans observed. "Tell me. Does it not get tiring rolling over for every man that gives you the time of day?"

Rusty stared, mask abandoned. "You're jealous," he breathed.

Hans slapped him smartly in the face. "One does not get jealous because a whore has other tricks."

He licked his lips. That was the first time Hans had hit him. Didn't feel controlled. Didn't feel like it was just part of the game. The sooner he got this back onto familiar ground the better.

With another smile, he reached out and trailed his right hand down Hans' chest enticingly. "So what do you want?" he murmured again.

Hans glanced down at his hand then stared back at him unmoved. "First of all I want you to put that bed back in its proper place. Then I want to get Danny turned over so I can attend to his wound," he said crisply.

Oh. He dropped his hand – dropped the act – and frowned. "Thought we wanted to move him as little as possible?"

"At this stage, we must way up risks and benefits," Hans said irritably. "Some careful movement will do him no harm, while infection will do him all the harm in the world. This is standard treatment, I promise you."

For a long moment he studied Hans' face carefully, searching for even the slightest shadow of a lie. There was nothing. And he'd got pretty good at reading Hans over the past couple of weeks. "Okay," he said softly. Fuck, he hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Certainly, Hans seemed to take a great deal of care in directing exactly how Danny should be moved. Everything had to be precise and meticulous, and that was a comfort. Especially since once Danny was lying prone he could see how the dressing was soaked through and tinged with red.

"Hmmm," Hans said, peeling it back slowly. "Some weeping, some minor signs of infection...the stitches look well, however. This is good. Certainly better than I feared. I shall increase the antibiotics, apply some topical medication and redress the wound. That should answer nicely."

The wound was red and raw and slippy-looking. It was a jagged gash in Danny's back and it looked like agony. He couldn't stop staring.

Hans gazed at him curiously as he finished up the dressing. "It must be difficult to see him so helpless," he commented. "He appears to be a very strong-willed man, yes? How well do you suppose the two of you can cope with the change in your dynamic?"

With a herculean effort, he ignored the gibe. "What's that?" he asked instead, pointing to swollen red area just on Danny's bottom.

"A bed sore," Hans said, after looking at it critically for a moment. "Hardly surprising in the circumstances. I shall clean and dress this also." He paused fractionally. "Perhaps you will break up with him, knowing he is not so strong as you expected."

Danny was so much stronger than Hans would ever know. And his vulnerability could never change the way Rusty felt about him. He smiled tightly and said nothing.

"Or perhaps," Hans went on, smiling broadly. "Perhaps you already planned on breaking up with him. Perhaps you already knew you weren't good enough for him and wanted out before he realised."

That...that wasn't exactly true. He'd had no plans to break up with Danny before this week. And still it echoed his own thoughts. His smile slipped.

"Let us turn Danny back over now," Hans said after a moment and Rusty moved to follow his direction. "I cannot say I blame you," Hans clucked sympathetically as they worked. "He obviously cares for you deeply. Thinks very highly of you. How would he feel, I wonder, to know you jumped so readily into another man's bed?"

"I did that for him," he snapped. Somehow he couldn't shrug off Hans' words the way he would from others. Not anymore. They slipped under his skin, threw him off balance, and he hated it, and still he couldn't help but react.

"Do you really think he would see it that way?" Hans asked. "Or do you think he would simply see his possession - "

" - I'm not a possession," Rusty declared savagely. "Not yours and not his."

Hans gazed at him for a long moment, face like thunder. "Get undressed and go and bend over the bed," he ordered softly.

He wasn't Hans' property. He had a choice here and he was choosing to obey. He kept his head raised and managed to meet Hans' gaze. A petty defiance but it was one that Hans enjoyed anyway. He could see whatever he wanted in Rusty's eyes.

Naked, he stepped behind the curtains and he could hear Hans start to follow. He bent over the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress tight.

"Spread your legs wider," Hans said and it was a command, there was nothing of the 'please' or the 'I should like' about it.

He spread his legs wide and felt himself forced lower. The perfect height for Hans to fuck, he judged clinically. At least he wouldn't have to face him this time.

"Now, reach behind you with both hands," Hans went on, starting to sound breathless. "Grasp your buttocks tightly and spread them as wide as you can."

Oh _fuck._ Silently, he matched his actions to Hans' words, feeling more exposed, more degraded than he ever had before. His face and shoulders were pressed uncomfortably against the bed now. He turned his face to the side, hoping that Hans couldn't see, but after all, he still needed to breath. This was dehumanising in a way he simply couldn't articulate.

There was a jangling sound and he tensed, ears straining as he tried to figure out what was going on. The surgical trolley...? Terror bit deep into his soul and he could feel his legs start to tremble.

"Very good," Hans said and Rusty could _feel_ him right behind him, close up and getting a good look, _inspecting,_ but not touching. Not yet. "Now, this is going to be very simple for you. No acting required. Just stay exactly like that, and I will do all the work. All you have to do is say a word every time I move. Just one word. Simplicity itself."

"What word?" he asked as he was meant to. It would be 'more' or 'please' or maybe even 'no'. It hardly mattered, after all. Just another mask to wear. He felt almost disappeared anyway.

But there was a long pause and when Hans finally spoke he could hear the delighted, demented smile. " _Danny,_ " he said.

_No._ No, that wasn't...he couldn't...that would make this real. That would make this _him._ He couldn't hope to hide the shudder of revulsion.

Hans laughed softly and placed his hand proprietorially on the small of Rusty's back. "Oh, Rusty," he murmured tenderly, and that was all the warning he got before Hans thrust forcefully forwards, battering his way inside until Rusty was sure he was being torn open. Oh, fuck. Up until now, Hans had been meticulous and using lube and prepping him, or at the very least getting him to do it himself. Now there was nothing and the hoarse cry of agony was ripped from his throat. It hurt like nothing ever had before. It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside.

Buried deep inside him, Hans paused, waiting.

He swallowed hard and the internal screaming drowned out the pain. "Danny," he managed to choke out.

Hans started to move.

"Danny. Danny. Danny. Danny, Danny, _Danny."_

It started off sounding like a plea, but the hate and the revulsion and the pain soon bled into his voice. "Danny." It made him sick. And he couldn't see Hans, and Hans stayed silent and as he endlessly called Danny's name it was almost like...it almost _felt_ like...all the other times he'd moaned Danny's name, all the times he'd whispered it, and now Hans was... _he_ was... His face was rubbed back and forth against the harsh sheet and he couldn't make it stop, he couldn't make it _stop,_ he was helpless. Powerless. "Danny!"

It was years or maybe centuries before Hans finished. Long after Rusty had been reduced to a hollow shadow, shaking and shaken, dully whispering " _Danny"_ at every movement.

Hans let out a sigh but kept his hand firmly in place. Kept _everything_ firmly in place. "Please stay very still," he murmured. He sounded in a far better mood now.

He stayed very still. Whatever horror there was here wasn't enough to pierce the fog around his soul. And he heard the clattering from the trolley next to the bed and there was dread curled in the pit of his stomach but above that he was numb.

"Take a deep breath," Hans advised sweetly and then he moved his hand and Rusty felt the pain, sharp and hot and deep, right where the hand had been.

He heard himself scream from somewhere far away.

The pain went on forever and still he didn't move, but his fingernails sank deep into his flesh and his teeth forced deep into his lip. Hans dropped a bloody scalpel onto the bed, right in front of his face. His blood. Oh, fuck.

There was further noise and he felt the sting of antiseptic and soft, rough pressure being held to the cuts. "And now the sutures," Hans murmured, dreamily and a moment later there was more pain. "Do you know, I have never operated while inside someone this way. I must say, I find it most invigorating. Thank you, Rusty."

He took a deep breath. And another. Stepped past the pain, stepped past the screaming and said "Don't mention it."

Deep inside him he could feel Hans start to twitch and swell as he worked. With each stitch he grew harder and still he held himself still until Rusty thought he would suffocate on the scream he was holding inside.

"There," Hans said at last and he ran his fingers over the wound he'd made, drawing out some pattern Rusty couldn't quite focus on enough to follow. "All done." Abruptly, his nails dug deeper as he scratched his fingernails up Rusty's back. "Do you remember what you're supposed to say?"

"Danny?" he cried out as Hans thrust brutally into him. "Danny, Danny, Danny, Danny, Danny."

An arm stole around his hip, a hand loosely grasped his dick.

Instinctively, he pulled back, trying to escape but only driving the pain deeper into himself. No. _Please_ no.

Hans laughed as he thrust forwards, driving Rusty into his hand.

"Danny," Rusty whispered. "Danny."

"I love you, Rus'," Hans said and it was a bad attempt at an American accent and he didn't even come close to matching the timbre of Danny's voice, and yet in that moment all he could hear...all he could _feel..._

"Danny," he said as Hans squeezed lovingly, and why did it feel like everything good in the world was slowly drowning in filth and poison?

It took longer the second time. Long enough for him to grow frantic and frightened, terrified that they might go on like this forever. He didn't come. He didn't even get hard. The pain was too much. There was blood streaked down his legs when Hans finally let him up, and tears splashed over his face. He flinched when Hans reached out to wipe them away.

"No need to be sullen, tough boy," he said, smiling. "I will see you again very soon."

Of course. Just because it was over didn't mean it was over. ( _It was never going to be over._ )

He waited until Hans had gone to twist around and check the wound on his back, and when he _saw_ he couldn't choke back the sobs in time. Two letters, an 'H' and an 'L' were cut and stitched just above his tail bone. It was the same elaborate twist he'd seen embroidered on Hans' handkerchief. He'd said he wasn't property and the bastard had gone and monogrammed him. The tears fell again. More than anything he wanted to go and snatch up something sharp and to cut and cut until all the evidence was erased... For a long moment anger and revulsion warred with pragmatism. Hans would see if he removed it, and that would only encourage him to do something more, to really make his point. No, there'd be plenty of time later. Later, he'd have a chance to scrape it off his skin.

A soft noise and he cursed himself for his selfishness. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten why he was doing all this. Clumsily, he got dressed letting out a hiss of pain as he eased his pants up. Yeah. It hurt. And it didn't feel like it was going to stop hurting anytime soon. He was bruised. Torn. He was _damaged._ Still, he limped as quickly as he could over to the other bed and looked down at Danny.

Danny. For a moment his vision blurred and he could feel the hand on his back holding him down, could taste blood where he'd bitten through his lip, could smell the rank sweat and bitter musk...no. No, that wasn't who they were.

Danny wasn't fully conscious, not really, but he was looking up at Rusty, his eyes wide and wild and fearful. His head was crumpled to the side and his shoulder was twisted around, like he'd been trying to throw himself out the bed. He'd heard something. He'd heard too much.

His mouth was moving soundlessly, but that didn't matter because Rusty could real all the questions in his eyes, all the fear.

He reached down and smoothed his thumb across Danny's cheek, his hand shaking. "It's alright," he said. "Go back to sleep." He took a deep breath. "It's just a nightmare," he said with absolute truth.

* * *

There had been too many nightmares. Danny had woken up too many times shaking with rage and fear, certain that something was wrong and not able to say _what._ He slept too much and awful things crept into his head.

Rusty shrugged and said that vivid dreams were a common side effect of morphine. But he didn't meet Danny's eyes when he said it. He hardly met Danny's eyes at all anymore. This wasn't just Rusty freaked out by Danny being hurt. It wasn't even some trauma that had happened before they got here. This was something awful and ongoing. Every day Rusty was a little more distant and his eyes were a little duller. And for the last few days he'd been limping badly. Somehow he'd been hurt while Danny had been sleeping.

_The bill is extortionate._

In his current state thinking was heavy weather but his thoughts kept circling back around to that. Hans _seemed_ nice enough on the surface, but Rusty hadn't spoken of him fondly and he'd all but said that Hans was only interested in money. Interested in money and knew they were thieves. Suppose he was making Rusty do things for him in exchange for Danny's care. Distasteful things like stealing from people who didn't deserve it and couldn't afford it. That would explain the dulled look in Rusty's eyes, and it would explain how Rusty had managed to get injured while allegedly never leaving this room.

He felt his fists clench at the thought, imagining Rusty being forced to use his talents to pray on the weak and vulnerable. He knew how Rusty would feel about that, how it would cut him up inside.

Naturally he tried talking to Rusty about it, but Rusty was curt and dismissive, telling him that he was imagining things, that nothing was wrong, and when he tried to press further...

Rusty stepped out of his sight.

It didn't sound like much, did it? Sounded like something a grown man should just be able to shrug off. But he couldn't follow and he couldn't turn to see where Rusty had gone and as the minutes ticked by and the silence got louder he became irrationally afraid that Rusty had left him completely, and the only sound was his own breathing and he could hear as that got faster and louder, and he could swear he could almost hear his heart beat...

"Rus, _please,"_ he said at last in a voice that wasn't his own.

"I'm here," Rusty said, stepping back into view, and the relief was a physical thing. "Oh, D - " He hesitated fractionally. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry." His smile was jagged. Fractured. But he reached down and took Danny's hand.

He took a deep breath. "Will you sit at least?" he asked, because somehow it felt like if Rusty was sitting he'd be less likely to get up and leave.

But Rusty shook his head. "Whatever you think, I've been cooped up in this basement the whole time. I'm feeling restless. I'm better standing. Sorry." The lie dripped from every word. But Rusty's hand was still wrapped round his and today he was a coward. He said nothing.

He tried challenging Hans of course, on another occasion when Rusty was asleep. ( _Or maybe simply not there?_ ) "I know what you're doing," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," Hans agreed calmly. "I am giving you your 10 o'clock dose of antibiotics."

He hadn't exactly been expecting to be taken seriously. Not like he was in a position right now to be intimidating. But he managed to reach up and grab Hans' wrist, pulling him round to at least look him in the eye.

"I know what you are doing," he emphasised again. "Rus' told me all about it."

Just for a second there was a flicker of something in Hans' eyes. Not guilt. Fear, maybe? Maybe. But then it was gone and Hans was smiling jovially. "Oh," he murmured. "And what has _Rus_ ' been telling you? Did he tell you how I worked ceaselessly – tirelessly – to save you life?"

Yes. "He told me you're forcing him to steal for you," he said boldly.

Hans blinked then he laughed a little. "Oh, I know 'Rus' told you no such thing," he declared. "What would he have to gain from telling such lies, mmm? No, Danny, I am afraid you are being paranoid. Perhaps even delusional."

He dug his fingers in tighter. "You have to stop," he insisted hoarsely. "If money is what you care about we'll – _I'll_ \- see that you're well rewarded. But stop this."

"You are hurting me," Hans observed, pulling his arm free with barely an effort. "That is good. It means your strength is returning." For a moment he stood poised over Danny, looking down at him, his expression somehow more calculating than contemplative. "Perhaps we will have to see about reducing your morphine, Danny. Rus' has been very worried about you. He tells me you have been having nightmares."

Nightmares. _Yes._ And he was used to normal nightmares – sometimes he dreamed about Rusty being hurt, sometimes he dreamed he was back drowning below the old wharf, hell, sometimes he dreamed he was being chased through endless fields of corn by a man without a face. Normal nightmares. Everyone got them. These were different. Brighter, somehow. More vivid, more wrong.

_He woke a little after midnight, cold and alone but somehow feeling stronger than he had in a long time. Without even thinking about it he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, and it wasn't until he was standing that he remembered to be surprised. He was fine. This had all been a misunderstanding. He could walk and he had to tell Rusty right away. He hurried over to the other bed which was at the far side of an immense darkened room, picked out by a bright spotlight. Rusty was asleep, lying on his stomach, his face turned towards Danny. He was covered by a thin sheet and Danny knew somehow he was naked beneath._

_All thoughts of his recovery were forgotten. Rusty was languid. Beautiful. He bent and pressed soft, urgent kisses against Rusty's lips and Rusty smiled at him in his sleep and murmured Danny's name and he rolled slightly, exposing his neck and bare shoulder and Danny's mouth moved lower while his hands gently peeled the sheet away, fingers tracing down Rusty's spine in all the ways Danny knew he loved until Rus' arched his back, a soft moan escaping his parted lips._

_Somehow, his fingers were coated in lube. Rusty spread his legs and raised his hips invitingly, and Danny felt his heart beat faster. Slowly – teasingly slow – he slipped a finger inside and it went so easy he pressed in another long before he normally would, eager and almost unbearably turned on, and Rusty was making soft noises of pleasure as his fingers started to move._

_This felt so good. This felt_ too _good and he wanted – needed – more._

_He looked up and Rusty's face was turned towards him, streaked with tears and Danny suddenly realised that all those soft little noises had been pleading for him to stop, and somehow when Rusty said_ yes _it meant_ no, _and he had to stop, he needed to, but he couldn't._

_It was like he was watching someone else as he pulled his fingers out and gripped Rusty's hips – too roughly, too hard – and he forced himself deep inside. Rusty's voice was urging him to go harder, faster, but_ Rusty _was begging him to stop, but he couldn't...he wouldn't..._

He'd half woken up then, trapped in a limbo state, not able to move or talk or even exactly think, and there had been a smell in the air, heavy and pervasive and somehow both familiar and wrong, and the sounds from his nightmare had lingered, and he'd fallen back asleep with tears rolling down his face.

There had been other, similar nightmares. He'd dreamed of hurting Rusty. _Raping_ him. And he didn't understand why. He'd never fantasised about hurting Rusty before. Hell, he'd never fantasised about hurting _anyone_ before; assault was never sexy. This wasn't him and he found himself picking at the dreams, analysing them for any meaning other than the literal. Could be that he was just afraid of trapping Rusty. That he was afraid that if his life was over he'd be dragging Rusty down with him, and Rusty would smile and say he was happy, but inside he'd be longing to escape. And that fitted because already he was afraid he was asking too much of Rusty. Being 'demanding' as Hans had put it. That all made sense, he was sure it was what any qualified shrink would tell him. But it didn't feel right. He knew his own mind and this didn't feel like it was about his anxieties or insecurities. And he was getting better, wasn't he? Every day he had a little more feeling in his legs. No control, but he had the sensations at least, so if the dreams were about the anxiety, that should be diminishing, but instead the dreams were getting worse. No, the dreams were about sex. And where the hell had that come from? Sex for him had always been about equality and mutual pleasure, and with Rusty it was so much more than that.

Might sound odd, but after that first kiss, when they'd agreed that _they_ could be something else, something more, they still hadn't actually had sex for another couple of weeks. Oh, there had been a not-insignificant part of him that had wanted to tumble into bed right away and maybe never come out again, but that had been balanced by other factors. He'd never been a fan of sex on the first date; he'd always preferred to take it slow, get to know the person first at least a little. And obviously that didn't really apply here – he already knew Rusty better than he'd ever know another human being – but still he wanted to take his time. Enjoy the moments and make sure that when the time came it was perfect in every way. And Rusty understood that, because Rusty understood _him._ And Rus' was normally more than happy to fall into bed with someone before the first date, so maybe they'd both liked the thought that this was different.

Not that they'd exactly been acting like saints. There'd been plenty more kissing and on nights that had felt more date than work, they'd let their hands and mouths wander where they would. Waiting had never been this hard before.

And then, fifteen days after their first kiss, in the presidential suite of the Luxor Hotel, after they'd spent the day successfully separating Alexander Bower from his favourite Ferrari, he'd sat on the balcony with Rusty, eating pizza and watching the city lights reflecting in the water below, and they'd both silently acknowledged that it was time. There'd never be a more perfect moment. He'd never been more certain of anything, and he'd never been more nervous.

He reached out and ran his fingers through Rusty's hair as they kissed and it felt like magic.

"You want to go to bed?" Rusty murmured, breath hot against his ear.

"Probably best," he smiled back between deeper kisses. "Before we give the people in the next building any more of a show."

The bed was soft and huge and the butterflies in his stomach slowly evaporated as Rusty knelt in front of him.

"We could be about to ruin a beautiful friendship," Rusty said lightly, his eyes fixed on Danny, reminding Danny that they could stop this any time, asking if he was _sure._

He was. But in return he smiled, his eyes reminding Rusty of the exact same thing. "I'm sure you can't be _that_ bad," he said out loud.

Rusty grinned. "Gonna give me marks out of ten?" he asked, and he lowered his head and nothing had ever felt like this before. He twisted his hands into the sheets, but that didn't feel right and instead he reached down and stroked his hands across Rusty's shoulders and down his spine as far as he could reach, gentle and encouraging and so very, very happy.

"That was amazing," he started to say as Rusty sat up, and Rusty looked him straight in the eye and swallowed, slow and deliberate.

_Oh_. For a moment he was lost for words. There was something unbelievably sexy about the way Rusty did that. There was something unbelievably sexy about the way Rusty did _everything._

Rusty grinned and sat up next to him. "I have some skills," he murmured and Danny laughed.

"Well," he said, rolling over and trailing kisses down Rusty's stomach, delighted to see he was already hard. "I don't, but I'm really eager to learn."

On some level he had been half-expecting for it to feel weird or awkward. He should have known better. Because this was Rusty and what could be more natural than to want to make him happy? What could be better than to hear that soft cry of pleasure when Danny licked _here,_ or pressed his lips _there,_ or reached up his hand and very gently stroked _there._ He wanted to keep going. Hell, he ever wanted to stop, and it was a wrench when Rusty gently grabbed his shoulders and held him back.

"Keep going like that and I'm gonna come," he warned.

Yeah, that had sort of been the idea.

Rusty's lips twitched briefly, but then he looked serious, maybe even nervous. "First time I...I want you inside me."

Oh. He sat back and looked at Rusty and resisted the urge to ask 'Are you sure?'

But Rusty's eyes narrowed immediately. "Hey. Are _you_ sure? Nothing you don't want to do. If you're not comfortable with - "

" - no," he interrupted quickly, grabbing Rusty's hand. "No, I want to. Believe me, I want to."

For a long moment Rusty studied him. "Tell me?" he asked softly.

Danny sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "It's...I've never done this before," he stated. "You know that. And I'm worried about hurting you and I'm worried about not making it good for you. I mean, I've done research - "

" - research," Rusty repeated, eyebrows raised. "That slang for 'watching gay porn'?"

"Something like that," he admitted. "But also something a little more...hands on. DIY."

For a moment, Rusty's face went absolutely still. The heat rose in his eyes, his lips were parted. He took a couple of deep breaths. "Hands on?" he replied.

"Yeah," Danny said, his voice low, watching Rusty closely.

"Mmm." Rusty licked his lips. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah," he said truthfully, enjoying the way Rusty was looking at him. "Yeah, I did."

"Mmm," Rusty said again. "That's...something I'd like to return to at a later date."

He thought about touching himself like that while Rusty watched, or better still, having Rusty touch him like that, and he shivered as the heat curled deep in his stomach. "Point is," he said, returning to the moment with an effort. "Took me long enough to reliably find my own prostate. What chance do I have of finding yours?"

"It's not all about - " Rusty began.

" - I know," he said quickly. "But it's our first time." And he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted Rusty to feel all the things that he made Danny feel.

Rusty smiled slightly, his eyes fixed on Danny's, warm and wondering. "Okay," he said. "Okay. We got all the time in the world, remember? So if that's what you're worried about..." He lay back and spread his legs. "We practice. Why don't you use your fingers? Get to know where all the best spots are."

Learning how to give Rusty pleasure. Learning how to make it perfect. He smiled.

"There's lube in the dresser," Rusty started to say, but Danny was already holding up his own. "Huh."

"It's chocolate flavoured," he explained.

Rusty grinned. "How well you know me," he said.

Danny gently brushed a curious finger up the side of his thighs and drew little caresses, just around his entrance. "That's the idea," he said.

That was what their love life was like. It was all talking and laughter and understanding each other, taking pleasure in giving pleasure, making each other happy...it was about love. And really, it was no different from the way they were the rest of the time. That was reality. That was what he wanted. The nightmares...they were just another way the world was whispering to him that something was desperately wrong. And sometime soon they were going to get out of here and somehow he was going to find a way to put it all right.

* * *

The first time he came with Hans inside him he felt like he'd lost all right to call himself a human being.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. :) Please take a moment to review. I swear the wait for the next chapter won't be long.


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